Neville Longbottom's Boggart Attends Severus Snape's Funeral
& no one will look directly at him. even though he is in the front row. even though he’s the biggest thing in the room.
the whole world pulls a handkerchief from her pocket and whispers the word redemption. and the boggart stares into the casket, wonders about the moment they washed a dead man’s hands clean,
and of course it is a tragedy– that you would name your abuse, (finally) in a room full of people, and they would shrug, tell you of a girl he loved once,
lecture you about forgiveness, about changing spots on the leopards that are still hunting you,
that your trauma would wrap itself in your grandmother’s clothes and dare you to survive it loudly.
remember, this is a story about a boy who lives. about power that does not come easy, the magic of packed earth and the things that dare to come out of it.
oh, how your courage makes a mess of their story. how it climbs into his coffin ugly and loud and unburied.
This poem is included in my new book, Forgive Me My Salt. You can order the book here: http://where-are-you-press.myshopify.com/products/forgive-me-my-salt
