Seeing the Body

Up until now,
I never realised the importance of seeing the body,
I remember wanting to see it,
Hoping that it would provide some answers,
Maybe some closure,
While also knowing that not seeing it
Would bring a lifetime’s regret…

When the time came,
I was ushered into a room,
Dimly lit around the edges,
All the light was focused on the centre
Where the coffin stood wide open,
Exposing his death to us all,
The room was warm, but I was cold…

In the coffin he lay,
A troubled man who had found his peace,
The marks could not be seen,
No one wanted to see them,
Everyone in the room was crying,
I looked down at him,
Wondering when my tears would come…

They never did,
And I felt heartless,
I still do,
Where was the grief that engulfed the rest?
Even at the funeral and the graveyard
No physical remorse came from me,
I heard people speak their wonders aloud…

I have often been praised
For my handling of it all,
But, in my own mind, it wasn’t handled,
There was no grief,
There was no remorse,
Just the complete shock of the loss,
And the acceptance of the irreversible…

Now I realise why my acceptance was so easy,
Now I know the importance of seeing the body,
I was forced into accepting reality,
As it lay there in front me
With its eyes closed,
Never to move again,
Because of an act of depressed brutality…

(as horrible as the experience was, and how uncomfortable it may or may not be to read it, Seeing the Body is, personally, an important poem because of the epiphany that inspired it).