Green Tea Parties and Lilies: A Collection of Rather Assorted Poetry

The Smallest Coffins Are The Heaviest

I stood there in the rain

The drops of water rolling down my face

Or were those tears?

I couldn't tell.

There lay a box in the ground. 

We were piling dirt onto it.

It was small, not even half the size of me. 

A dark wood, wet with a mix of rainwater and tears. 

I watched the dirt cover the lid and there she went.

Down into the depths of the earth trapped in a tiny little box. 

A tiny little box...

It may have been small,

It may have been easy to carry because of the small body that lay inside.

But I cannot carry it, it is much too burdensome

Because the smallest coffins are the heaviest.