After the Visitation

Alone

We sit in the front seat

She and I

Our thoughts misplaced and distant

As a long patient procession crawls

Through manicured lawns filled with

Monuments, markers, statues, and

Old-growth trees, their roots

Bursting above ground

Strong, solid, absolute, before

An abrupt return to the earth

The car ahead: never closer

Never further, never stopping

She reaches for my free hand

For solace, for warmth

In this cool, heavy stillness

Before I can pull away, retreat

Back into myself

The car ahead reflects

The fullness of the sun

I turn away and see a man

Alone

On the cold, Autumn ground

He sits cross-legged, head bent

Leaning against a short headstone

A string of cans beside him

Another in his lap

Dark hair falls from the front and

Sides of a worn wool cap, and

Covers most of his face as

He takes a drink from the can

His gaze returns downward, inward

He shakes with heavy sobs

His burden fills the space

The surrounding stillness feels obscene

Not for warmth, not for solace

She takes my hand

I watch the car ahead: never stopping

Never further, never closer

Passing monument and statue

Our thoughts move together

She and I, one

After the visitation