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06/10/12 - (2)
Sundays in B'nai Amoona
B'nai Amoona Cemetery is subdued, in its beautiful solitude, This unusually cool June Sunday noontide, in St. Louis, A beatitude asking us to bask in its benevolence, Inviting the three of us into its Gan Eden–peaceful refuge, To celebrate the essence of our parents' presence, For just the second time together — my two sisters and me — Since we buried our father, almost a decade ago, The first since our mother, eight months back, Went to sleep, beside him, in perpetually affectionate embrace.
Facing their red-Missouri-granite gravestone, We weep silently, kiss each other, And suddenly recall the myriad Sundays of our coming of age, When Dad (who visited this cemetery devotedly, To pay weekly homage to his fifty-two-year-old father) Would bring one of us here, to teach us, inculcate in us, The deep, abiding, textured meaning of family, The insistence of ancestry, the past and future's kinship — We three, kids again, knowing our parents will take us home.
06/10/12 - (2)
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