Silence in the Backseat

I was riding in the backseat

How many years had it been?

That my father drove me ’round

It was a few more years than ten

My mom was in the front seat

The ride was very quiet

The fifteen miles we traveled

Not a word; somber and silent

There were many cars in line with us

And opposite our path

Headlights lit in honor

Every car that we had passed

The motorcycle sped ahead

Letting us make way

Toward the cemetery

And a freshly dug out grave

We rounded the last corner

Before we finally entered

My heart began to pound

And still now, as I remember

I searched for something I could hold

A thought to give me peace

And uttered it aloud

From there, in the backseat

We crossed a couple cattle guards

Breaking all the silence

I looked out of the window

Wind was bending tall dead grasses

It was fall and seemed quite fitting

The harvest of a soul

With the leaves all changing colors

On the tree-lined cemetery road

Through the iron gate

We passed slowly, to a stop

I glanced toward the hearse

Parked on the hill, atop

My mouth was dry; how could I do this?

Please don’t make me go

I thought quite like a child that day

Could my dad be my hero?

He couldn’t save me though

The car still slowly creeping

So, I gathered all my strength

When we finally finished moving

I emerged, there, from the backseat

My dad reached out his hand

And led me ’cross the path

To the coffin of my husband