the funeral

it's a long
funeral.
the cars are in an
endless
line. headlights
lit
moving slowly
towards the green
pasture beyond
the black
iron fence.
the white headstones
are no longer
white, but grey
and mildewed
they tilt with the names
and dates
of whoever lies
below
their parcel
of land.
there is no welcoming
committee, no
hellos, no
greeting.
there is the sorrow
of the living
as they
say farewell, casting
loved ones
into the long
good night.