Image from front cover of Veils, Halos and Shackles : International Poetry on the Oppression and Empowerment of Women
Few Regrets
The widow’s true feelings belie her black veil,
for the eulogy prompts no tears or no wail.
She remembers his fury and his raised fist,
so his mouth and his hands will never be missed.
That sustained keen from the front of the church
comes from his mother–a black crone on her perch.
Sitting alone in the very front row,
she continues to sob and to moan and to crow.
Hers the only wet eyes, most likely because
she was the reason he was as he was.
No person comforted to ease her pain,
for all felt her loss was the wider world’s gain.
Later, at the grave site, as they commenced queueing
to pay last respects during the final viewing,
the single men agreed the corpse was a louse
and dreamed of becoming the widow’s next spouse.
Word prompts for the day are fury, eulogy, sustain and belie.
lifelessons - a blog by Judy Dykstra-Brown 
So sad, but too often true.
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Totally agree! Great poem.
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Thanks, Stevie.
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A whole story done in a beautifully lyrical manner.
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Thanks, Susan.
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Haha! Good one Judy. They both, mother and son deserved it.
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Fabulous Judy 😉 the last lines made me laugh
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Oh Judy so well described and yet such a sad picture of a life played out every day. I have seen such, which need no sorrow, except from their own mother. In fact I saw one on the TV just last night~!
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