A guitarist, then two, a violin and horn
Took up the lament, only – a flamenco
Palmas keeping rhythm – clap, clap, clap.
Life has a rhythm, why not then death?
Es No. The heart has the final beat.
Then comes the enormous silence.
Padre, esposo, hijo – El hombre
The man they loved, laid low into the earth,
Sand trickled from hands taps the coffin-lid
That farewell tears and kisses mark’d.
The priest proclaims, “Rejoice, he sees God in paradise!”
When I see God in Paradise,
I will have a few words with Him.
Not only about my own life’s grief, but others
I will go on…(There’s a long list.)
And look here, I will say.
This man we buried, he was a good man,
A family man, much beloved by his
Wife, and many children.
Why did you take him so young?
Why did he have to suffer?
When the evil live to a ripe old age?
Por qué?
I’m wondering what He will answer
(Please don’t give me a religious platitude.)
White Herons flew over, three, then two more
Soaring across the sapphire sky. Hark! La Musica!
Below the mourners in black, singing, singing,
Gathered round – the green sod, upturned
By the gaping, open wound
Of that unwelcome grave.
© 31 October 2022, Katharine Summers All Rights Reserved
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