Descanso
On the
Journey
To Santa Fe
Stand the
Roadside
Crosses,
Twined with
Plastic flowers,
Rosaries
And ribbons
Of
Remembrance.
Made of
Styrofoam,
Lashed
Scraps of
Wood,
Or sometimes
Metal bars,
They are
Tributes to the
Departed,
With a view
That the
Spirit
Remains
Where it
Left the
Body.
I wonder whom
They mourn,
These hushed
Fallen,
Or if
They died
In this
Specific
Place,
But they
Are silent
As the years
And I
Pass them by.
Does anyone
Return,
Are they
Haunted
By the living,
Or left as
Sentinels,
To somehow
Balance
The right to
Remember
With the
Need to
Forget.
On the
Journey
To Santa Fe
Stand the
Roadside
Crosses,
Twined with
Plastic flowers,
Rosaries
And ribbons
Of
Remembrance.
Made of
Styrofoam,
Lashed
Scraps of
Wood,
Or sometimes
Metal bars,
They are
Tributes to the
Departed,
With a view
That the
Spirit
Remains
Where it
Left the
Body.
I wonder whom
They mourn,
These hushed
Fallen,
Or if
They died
In this
Specific
Place,
But they
Are silent
As the years
And I
Pass them by.
Does anyone
Return,
Are they
Haunted
By the living,
Or left as
Sentinels,
To somehow
Balance
The right to
Remember
With the
Need to
Forget.
RSS Feed