The Sound of Death

His mournful wail still resounded

thru my convulsing brain

as my clouded blue eyes tried

to make sense of the

somber, stoic, silent scene,

that seemed to never end,

in front of my emotions.

Six feet and one inch, bulging

veins, trembling muscles, and

veiled translucent blue eyes

kept stabbing the round tipped shovel

deeper and harder into the

concrete dirt that tried to refuse

us entrance into its sphere.

He persevered without halting, never

looking up, only down in his quest

to make a burial place

for the one hundred plus pounds

of pure puppyhood that lay wrapped

in the Power Rangers sheet of the

five year old nephew

who stood just as stoically

watching

his uncle

in the hole

stab the shovel

deeper.

My brothers brown eyes burned with loss at not

knowing what to do,

his other half stood unwaveringly by

his side as her green eyes shimmered with

unshed pain

and I

wandered back and forth

between all of them

trying to mother them all while my pain

escaped in a torrent of waters that fed

the grave

of our beloved family pet,

Spike.