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A dawn brings small-town Julia
into her Daddy's church; she'll grow
to bear a preacher of her own.
A dusk brings small-town Julia to home
out of a room where she poured her hard-earned
knowledge into men. Her husband fought the
Great War and built our homes with stone.
It's said they worked the fields; they sowed
In a lockstep born of love. The railroad
took her loved ones, a sister and a son.
She held her sister's sons close and prayed
to carry on. Now the bone white of the river
Styx has become sweet Jordan's swells.
And its waters toss her high from an iron bed.
She rubbed between her fingers the tangy salt
of life she leavened bitter bread with, a stout
unflinching light. Let the mountains bend
their ears, now; starry skies drop out of sight.
Let the vast plains of her homeland
bid sweet Julia a fond good night.
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"Sweet Julia (A Funeral Song)" Poetry.com. STANDS4 LLC, 2021. Web. 1 Aug. 2021. <https://www.poetry.com/poem/85571/sweet-julia-(a-funeral-song)>.