Funeral Procession

The sobbing sound of slow drums
would call us through the bamboo forest.
And shuddering,
we would leave the playground to watch
the red coffin,
carved from a single tree-trunk,
pass,
carried by men
draped in robes
as white as bones.

20 June 2008

This is based on memories of my childhood in Taiwan, when I was at Chinese school. A small forest of trees (not bamboo, but I needed to suggest the oriental setting!) separated the school from the main road that led to the cemetery up the hill. Funeral processions (no idea which religion: Buddhist, Taoist, Confucian?) used to pass fairly regularly, and even though they terrified us, we cld not resist going to watch. For those of you who don't know, white is the colour of death and mourning in the Far East, not black. I've no idea why I thought about it at about 3am! Maybe the Chinese poetry reading I went to a few weeks ago has stirred something up! I'm not too keen on the title, but it'll have to do for now. The second sentence is too long, but I haven't thought of a good way to break it up yet... I also originally had "aching" instead of "sobbing", but I used that in "Calligraphy" (17 February 2008) a while ago, and the alliteration is probably more effective?