....Burials

What if in ten years time that place is called
Jesusville... with a cross on the national flag.
Would you still want to get on an airplane
jostling luggage and then elbows and knees
with legions of religious strangers on divine quests
to go 'home' far from where they were born
and raised.

Would you still want to bury your beloved there,
entirely disconnected from everyday walks
and rituals, everyday routines and comforts-
every day shops and cafes, everyday paths
and gardens... and grandparents... and prayers.

Far far away from where you can earn a living
and gain respect from peers and mentors...

Far too far for her favorite schoolmates
to notice and recall shared pleasures. Too far

to remember much of real life
and real friends.

Far too far for cherished memories to remain intact.

Too far to physically visit the graveside except,
except during random albeit meticulously planned,
punitively expensive and utterly exhausting "vacations"

Few shoes fit well and no suitcase can hold
all you might need. Too too far
and too many checkpoints
too many distractions
too much hassle
too little money
and too many other enticing destinations
for your heirs to ever place flowers there.

Time implants new meanings in every ancient symbol.
Changing minds and moods. Annually seasonal sand storms
of choking dust blast at the nooks and crannies and crevices
of all surfaces, over and over day after day randomly chipping
and rechiseling what ever has been written on stone...

Erasing her carefully chosen name
and all known connotations with accents
she never heard, odd words
she'll never know...
as your own warmth,
your dreams and desires
and your own youth and beauty
your own breathe
and being
drifts away
far far away

poem copyright ©2012 Anne Selden Annab