Pondering the violence of cremation,
One must concede it is a posthumous
Act. the composite, body/soul creation
Has been halved, inanimate matter, thus
Readied for the fire chamber. separation
Sends off the immortal, speaking without mouth,
Its particular judgement determined at death,
To the Beatific Vision, its celebration.
The purification is not free of pain,
A preparation for newness of state,
A purgation of all hindering stain.
This same bodiless person: a new slate
Of sorts, a spotless soul seeking to gain,
A glorified body forever free of hate.
Gary Edward Geraci
A sonnet. A poem about death. I lost my father last Saturday, April 15, he was 86 years old. He will be buried next Thursday, in a traditional casket, at the Our Lady of the Rosary and Prayer Garden in Georgetown, TX (in the St John Paul II garden). I will end up in the same plot but in an urn. My brother vehemently disagrees with cremation and I had to try to convince him that it was okay, that the Church now permits it as a valid burial option. Another brother of mine, Dan, has left the Catholic Church, and likely no longer believes in this great, final act of mercy Catholics believe God gives us in Purgatory. Let’s ask Dante (if we could).
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