IN MEMORIAM FOR MEMORIALS
Once-jaunty ribbons mix
with plastic flowers and
long-dead petals, old gold
Mardi Gras bead strings, a
stuffed animal or two,
a few small coins, pennies
mostly, some heartfelt notes
and faded framed pictures.
The detritus of grief.
It is usually the photos
of dead children that get me.
Graduation caps and gowns,
white lace wedding dresses.
Sometimes a baptismal frock
or first communion suit,
hair slicked back, eyes bright.
Pop-up shrines swell. Their
faint sheen pulsates against
the gloom of crushing loss.
Doleful dolmens standing
in for the bereaved who
must attend to details
of death even though they would
prefer to lie weeping here.
It won’t be long, one thinks,
before thoroughfares will
jam up from these rising
monuments to our great
misfortunes. Highways, street
corners, schoolyards, cafes,
churches, concert halls
packed with totems and tributes.
A lachrymatory
might rest on every
corner to capture our
tears backed by drumbeats from
funeral marches, prayers,
bagpipes,Amazing Grace.
Or will we finally
grow tired of our ceaseless
weeping, staring at
lists of our latest victims,
ringing our hands like
a chorus of bell-pealers.
Can we act to banish
memento moris,
to celebrate instead
those who are still with us?