Shunned At A Funeral — The Quiet Between Cries

The sky still bleeds from yesterday
The stone's too close, but he's too far away
The air is heavy, it will not move
Just silence left where love
Once proved
My hands still smell of tears
And soil
The scent of myrrh, the ache, the toil
I trace the shape where he was laid
And whisper half a broken name
I watched him breathe his final breath
The world bowed low to holy death.
Now faith feels like an
Empty room still filled with nails and perfume gloom