Bury. The Long Parade Passed Through Heaven


It was a long parade of people,
the longest wailing of grandmothers,
hushed tears of the dead’s father,
a wife’s surrender.

Everybody shed a tear, sadness in their eyes –
all sobbed.

Father Jose geared for the final rites,
the blessings,
holy water for the dead,
peaked the graveyard in that afternoon.

In that afternoon, rushed the wind stirring memoirs
little kids tears’ wet clothes that fold isolated.

There was something of that space in the crowd – affection
not solely for grass
not solely for earth
but also for rain

That last bullet slaughtered countless tortures
I would like to think I was Laura and he was Logan

My Dad’s smell of passing away streamed mercy
what he left, yielded in us
His most Sacred Heart.

/rosevoc. 07142017


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