The Mortician: A Poem

The Mortician
Today’s guest poem is by Lori Papa

What does one look like?
Some stories portray
A revived, aged cadaver
in morning suit grey.

A scrooge-like old man
Whom leaves one feeling dread,
For his business is busying
himself with the dead.

These stories all told,
Tales of creepiest creeps,
Speak of “diggers” who robbed
those that now “rest in peace”.

Is it folklore and fear
that breed stories and myth?
Should these be stacked away
with Tales of the Crypt?

I believe they have value
On All Hallows Eve
Or at campfire outings
or for scaring some plebes.

Other than that
They should “rest in peace”
We should Bury our Fears
As we have our deceased.

So, What does one look like?
I’ll try to explain
With all fears aside,
There’s some insight to gain.

For I know a Mortician
He’s lived by my side.
My wonderful husband
with whom I abide.

A compassionate man,
Who knows of forgiving.
For his business is busying
himself with the Living.

His smile will calm you
and you’ll rest assured
that he will support you
as you must endure.

He wears strength on his shoulders,
Respect on his arms
As he is your escort
Through some of Grief’s harm.