MY MOTHER'S DEATH

The Pope's died
and every television set in the world
is giving the news
Now we see the body being moved
across the rooms of the Vatican
I know you
would have liked to see all that mama
and you would have been moved
and you would have followed the broadcast
from your bed

And the remains of the Pope
were carried from the chapel
to St. Peter's Cathedral
But you
we had to lower to the building's basement
in a wheelchair
because the casket wouldn't fit in the elevator

In these moments
the thousand million Catholics
there are in the world
express their grief for the Pope's death
but the sum of all that grief
can't compare
to the grief your children felt
when they carried you by wheelchair
and put you in your casket

The fact that I'm talking to you now
even though you can't respond to me
tells me you aren't dead
that you're somewhere in the universe
listening to me
because existing can't be something so poor
as living stuck inside a body
that turns into rubbish that turns into ashes

I remember when I was a child
and had nightmares about the devil
I ran to get in your bed
and sometimes now mama I'm very afraid
and don't want any more fear
I want the whole universe to be like a great bed
I can get into when I'm afraid
and you're beside me though I can't see you