Mexican Cemeteries

Mexican Cemeteries


Placing my hands gingerly
Against the cool metal of the
Chain link fence
I stand just on the edge of DeMaria Cemetery
My breath held almost in waiting
A clear calmness wraps my shoulders

Beyond a gate built by weathered hands
Decades ago
Fly banners challenging the unchanging
Countenance of death
Sun faded plastic flowers of a Robin’s egg
Blue
Red, white and purple wreaths eternal in their circles
Are burrowed boldly into earth cradles for those
Not seen, not forgotten
A molded cross props up a raven haired Mary, without end
She weeps, stoically her head tilted down
Gazing upon still, silent ground
She says that life has always been
The most consistent series of losses that sometimes
Free
Haunt
The human heart
A weather beaten American flag moves quietly in
The wind, hanging without apology from a tree branch
Overlooking all those who are without a voice but
Create continuous memories in the living


Often it’s unripe fruit
Eagerly awaiting a day of
Full fleshiness and juices
That glisten just below the
Surface
No one had asked her if she had wanted
Them to leave
Though trails marked lines leading away
From her
Taking two steps into meaning, horizon
Was on the tip of her tongue