Sadness: The Funeral I Carry Inside

Some funerals are never held in public. They are carried quietly, through empty fields, without witnesses.

In this piece, the coffin is transparent— not to reveal a body, but to show the absence of one. Nothing rests inside, because what died was never allowed to be buried.

This is not mourning for another. This is mourning for a version of the self that never survived the loss.

The weight is real, even when there is nothing to see. Every step is slow, not from exhaustion, but from respect.

This funeral does not end. It moves forward. Carried through time, through breath, through silence.

What lies inside is not death— it is what remained alive after everything else was gone.

And so the body walks, holding its own farewell, learning how to exist while carrying what was never laid to rest.