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The Funeral Director, a poem by John Peter Beck







The Funeral Director 


After each funeral,

we take the cut flowers


that have nowhere 

else to go


to care facilities

where the joy of bright blooms


and fresh greenery, for some, 

may be short-lived. 


I will see their frail bodies

soon enough for me


and far too soon

for many of them. 


Our pledge

is all about respect,


a special reverence

which each of us deserves


and truly our greatest gift,

our product, our service,


the pride we take in our work.

St. Joseph of Arimathea, our patron,


your loving hands helped

make the Lord’s final 


arrangements, the herbs

and salves, the fresh linens.


I have never had one of mine

come back after any amount


of days, no stones 

rolled aside.


The next one is

always waiting, 


the last one

now grey ash 


or sleeping beneath 

the lilies, six feet down.





- John Peter Beck




Raised in a milltown on Lake Michigan in Michigan's Upper Peninsula, John Peter Beck is a recently retired professor in the labor education program at Michigan State University where he co-directs Our Daily Work/Our Daily Lives, a program that focuses on labor history and the culture of the workplace. His poetry has been published in various journals that include The Seattle Review, Another Chicago Magazine, The Louisville Review, and Passages North.