Good Friday

Art by S. Auberle

ON GOOD FRIDAY AT CALVARY CEMETERY

Mary Theresa is being laid to rest.

Out north of town the mountain

towers, brown in a dry season,

only a pale crown of white at the peak.

Mourners are gathering at the casket

while I chase my granddaughter

over graves warm in the afternoon sun.

In her dress the color of the sky,

she is a small chalice, filled with light.

Mariah is just learning language

and over and over she calls out

her newest word … angel …

She sees angels everywhere --

holding a delicate egg in Easter grasses,

offering a tulip, next to the small Pinocchio

guarding a spirit child, but she only bends to look,

knowing someone needs it more than her.

Mariah hugs a teddy bear, abandoned carelessly,

as a baby would have left it in life,

dances with windchimes hanging from branches,

considers the lilies beneath and

watching her, I feel the weight of mortality

slipping from my shoulders,

down into the warm earth that waits for Mary,

where Isaac and Jincy, Elijah and Annie,

Leo and Baby Annalise already rest and I,

walking quickly past their stones,

whisper my apologies.

Bird, Mariah sings, and tree

and behind me there is weeping

and a faint prayer drifting on the wind

off the mountain.  My long black skirt

holds me back, but I want to run

away from Death's empty vessel,

up to that snowy peak, see Seraphim

and white rabbits and risen gods,

hear Mary laugh once more and tell me

if you're lucky enough to be born Irish

then you're lucky enough …

Yet might this not be heaven right down here?

Could this be all that is really needed --

this lucky moment when my arms are filled

with singing child and sunlight

and silky mountain breezes?

~ S. Auberle

an old piece, but one that calls to me this Easter season..