After The Burial It is a hard winded walk & you stumble into the middle of a family reunion. It is not your family, but still, it is a free meal & the group is too large to notice the lingering of one man. You are quiet at first, but someone, young & inexperienced, is trying to play the blues on a hard stringed guitar. You are drawn to this, and the boy, gives over the guitar with gratitude, having paid his dues to Grandma for the purchase & now only anxious to eat. So you play to a girl with radiant hair, who edges closer to watch your fingers fly pass a hole of strings. And you sing, gruffly, in the slow mood of the day, where you have decided to claim, this unknown familys name, in a blue heartache and swig of cider. You put it all in there, not saying where, you have been, but pushing, pass the sound of the mornings organ, huge & dark in an empty church, where you sat in solitude, mourning your father.
Posted on: Thu, 31 Jul 2014 13:23:59 +0000
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