I went to my first funeral today.
People say I’m lucky when they hear that
to have been shielded from the shock of
our impermanence for so long.
I walked in with a woman who said
My husband’s entire family is buried here.
“Apparently Not” I thought.
This is how I deal with the tragedy.
Songs are sung.
The Rabbi speaks.
Children tell the stories
of the life gone by.
We caravan from chapel to grave.
It is so Los Angeles to take
so many cars
so short a distance.
The casket
a simple pine box
a Jewish star on it
is put into the ground.
The holy words are said.
Shovels are lifted.
The widow, fifty seven years with him
is inconsolable.
The cemetery employee
announces the conclusion
collects the prayers in
prearranged black paper bags.
Some go to the meal
some back to work.
We miss the man
are grateful for our breath.