I went to see her on SaturdayA clear gentle July day.
Sometimes you get lost in this old cemetery,
all the hills and curving narrow roads.
There are two paths to come to her
one wraps tight between a stone wall and a large drop off into soft earth
beside the pavement.It is the most direct but
the most difficult to navigate.
The other takes you away from her first, past the largest
oldest markers, winged angels and holy saints with hands folded in prayer
large mausoleums and flowers and flags
punctuate the places where someone remembered
the people who breathed and you
think you've really gone too far til you discover
a split in the trees and a road gone to dirt
and if you slip your car through that shadow
you find the pavement on the other side
and my mother's yard
flat from a distance like an empty landscape
running out to the trees
but for the flowers and teddy bears and balloons.
My mother's plot is nearby the babies.
And I never have arrived to find the spot neglected,
except by me.
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