March funeral
March 01, 2021
The hearse got stuck
in the mud-snow.
I watched from graveside
as they tried reverse
then pushing --
finally backing down
to approach
from the other side.
Mourners in
inappropriate footwear
struggled in icy mud.
I thought of Mom --
her yahrzeit this week.
She died before covid
before masks and distancing,
before half a million dead.
Would she understand
how everything feels
uphill, our wheels
spinning in muddy slush?
Like the hearse
all we can do
is retreat, bearing
grief's heavy load.