Burial

Such a long way to come
to read each stone, the celtic crosses
crumbling into soft ground,
unfixed and untouched
in the sun.

Finally I’ve seen
the village she was from
Hailsham, East Sussex, England,
One Victoria Road, the place my father was
born and the small red bricks
they left for prairie snow.

Such a long way to come
to read this eulogy for the last time
in front of strangers.
I expect to hear a bird or feel
the wind pass me by.

©Shannon Horlor