NaPoWriMo #6

I went to a funeral today, so naturally, that's the topic of my poem:

For the Medranos, Virgilio and his amazing daughter Santos.

No one could stop the April breeze today
from animating her hair, the pinned back curls
of his daughter as she hurried into church.
As family shuffled in, heels clicked against

the tiles like steady heartbeats, his blood flowed,
his name alive on tongues. The clocks ticked on
and cell phones rang muffled in purses as prayers
were whispered and mouthed. The songs

of reuniting filled the pews, and children's laughter
echoed, dug out nascent smiles. The flowers bloomed
white around the silent ashes, but never
did I feel more alive than when I held

his daughter's hands in mine, her eyes ablaze
with strength. I whispered my condolences.