The Package

When I picked you up
I held you close

I cradled you
in my arms
next to my breast

I didn’t want to drop you

Such a small package,
yet so

I cried
as I carried you
to your car

For your final ride home

No longer
in the driver’s seat

The strongest woman
I’ve ever known

to this pitiful package

The remains of the body
that loved my grandfather
and bore my father

Reduced to a
paper-wrapped package
of ash

© April 1996 Karen Farrell, all rights reserved

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