Peaceful Here
Monuments to loved ones
Marble and alabaster
Rise from green mounds,
Rest quietly
Atop
The hill.
People are busy.
Down there.
In the concrete and
Glass buildings.
Down in the
Center,
The heart of
Oakland.
I sit amongst
The dead,
Goodall,
Bradbury,
Hu-Chen,
Dates on small placards
Indicate lives
Lived.
To be remembered,
Or forgotten.
It is peaceful here.
The soft mid-morning
Breeze blows,
My breath softens,
My shoulders melt.
I am relaxed.
Peaceful.
We ushered a being
To the other side
Last night.
Raccoon.
Jumped under the wheels
Of the Maxima.
I thought we’d
Hit a speed bump.
No, a live being.
My husband stopped
The car.
He went to look.
I began to weep.
Writhing body,
I peeked
in the rear view mirror.
Oh!
I wailed. As if
We’d killed my mother.
He waited.
The life drained away.
Stillness arrived.
Grief flooded my body.
It’s still here.
Peaceful.
Everyone is
Resting.
Diane
Sherman / September 2007 |
