Memorial Day

The sky drops
sun then rain then sun--
it's temperamental.

We stand holding clipped roses,
keeping green thoughts,
sharing memories and retelling
experiences we had with you
with such a reverence
each story might break
if we were not just so
careful.

We say the sun is shining because
our soul needs the warmth --
a reassurance all is well.
We say the sky cries because
we are crying.

We use newly purchased tools
a sturdy brush, dusting cloths,
dust the cobwebs from the grooves
already formed in your name,
in each of your dates.

We each volunteer,
take a turn scrubbing the cement,
brushing into the grass
what came loose.

We admire how new it looks.

Placing roses under your name
we pause, take in everything,
look at the whole of it and
honor the living name.

We back away slowly then turn, still
taking in the pieces of you and of us,
not wanting to forget things.

"Isn't it well kept and green?" I say
and for a brief moment it seems alright
we are leaving you here.