Dia de los Muertos (Day of the Dead)

In the necropolis    
there is no life after sundown      
Branches weigh heavy    
with its slumber    
     
Here at the ofrenda    
we wait for the heart of it    
amid sugar skulls    
and old photographs    
     
Course salt laid out as a cross    
to purify and cleanse    
providing courage to remain      
and alter a memory    
     
This is the part where we tread    
gently, knowing the past is present    
camouflaged in the thick space    
of enveloping incense    
wafting specters, shape shifting      
within the lobes of our lungs    
     
Some cannot imagine what we do    
To them, it’s a horror movie    
set in the cemetery at night    
relying on a false sense of safety    
by crucifix and candlelight    
tamales and Corona with lime      
     
But memories are altered that way    
not by vigilance at a grave    
No, altering memory is not a game    
nor a returning spirit, screaming    
the history of our mistakes    
     
It's a homecoming rending the veil    
and we're waiting for the meat of it:    
A return to peace through presence    
as though we never lost it    
     
It's making amends with Death    
the dark Archangel of mystery    
presenting a bowl of cherries    
Their boney pits wielding power    
to poison us    
     
The wise chew slowly, savoring    
Azrael's offering, swallowing      
the flesh, commending the bones      
back unto the Earth    
     
How else can we learn    
that something so sweet    
at heart is a bitterly tart truth  
resembling a blood offering    
pooling between our lips    
     
And we give thanks

I prepare the way open all channels an offering on the table
some salt to guard against wayward souls
my loved one is journeying from the netherworld
it is a difficult journey I bid she come to greet me for the last time
it is my will she be free in the eternal
some tequila should open the portal

as I sit among the tombs
listening to music
my own soul wanders
rising as smoke full of memories
the incense in the air is heady
it twirls with my being and I rise

I can see them my ancestors
traversing the immortal river that separates the living from the dead
singing songs of joy
they cross into the mortal realm

I can sense my mother's presence
I can feel her inside me
giving of her essence

I can smell her tamales
and some jasmine on the wind
I am transported to when I was a child
sitting in the rows of corn with her
picking the ears, separating silk from the corn
to pound it into maze later

the days were long, it was so hot
she would sing to me at night while bathing
she would cleanse the day's dirt away
and shoulder all my pain
my tummy full
I felt instantly lifted

it is a celebration of death
I toasted my mama
cross myself as she departs
tears streak my face

I feel renewed
she is at peace
she is a part of me
she gifted me all I ever need

“Are you at peace?”  
   
It’s not far-fetched of you to ask me  
in your prayers each night  
and thoughts each day  
   
The much-known concept of lives    
swallowed by the living each year  
   
Firstly, when we are physically birthed  
and slapped into breath;  
secondly, when we wake to purpose  
and life slaps us into a vessel    
for something greater than ourselves  
   
The lesser-known concept  
of two deaths is fully understood  
on this side of the veil    
   
Firstly, when our physical being  
relinquishes the ghost for ash;  
secondly, when our name passes  
between someone’s lips    
or thoughts for the very last time  
   
In the final moments of life  
silent oaths are made    
within the mind to somehow  
let loved ones know  
we are safe  
   
Yes, I am at peace  
   
Darkness has not swallowed me  
Each year, this resurrection    
this annual conjuring of presence    
makes itself known  
   
These cycles summon me by name  
the ofrenda and invocations  
of Dia de los Muertos    
keep my memory alive  
and guide me home  
   
Each moment my name is spoken  
a rebirth occurs  
from a history not forgotten  
   
So, mi amor  
peace isn’t the issue  
that's not what you want to know  
   
The issue is not knowing where I've gone  
wondering if the grave you’re lying on    
is a steppingstone of heaven  
or a stairwell into the dark  
   
It’s falling into the falsity    
that allows death to steal hope  
from a living soul    
   
Yes, I am at peace  
You have not let me die  
that second death  
   
And that . . .  
that is the definition of Love

Offering of souls to the days old
Seeing scars writ on memories  
Cigar lamentations drawn down cold
Smoke blown over red ripe berries  
 
Paper thin silhouettes slowly dance
Shadow faces back lit with moonlight
Draped showers pulled back In a trance  
Saluting lovers on nights lonely flight
 
God's are wrong to tread so carefully
Tied to an image frayed ragged edges
Hall's cobweb decoration walk wordlessly
Summoned to awaken infinity bridges  
 
Arise o mentor of the earth
Take thou sip of eternal breath

I returned to see a feast, a lively, spectral scene,
Bread baskets, bouquets, and family gathered in between.
Some I never thought to see, in this ethereal sphere,
A reunion of souls departed, a moment crystal clear.

There stood my uncle, the one with insurance plans,
Now living large, a glimpse of wealth in his hands.
My mother too, she shone with grace and pride,
My brothers, sisters, everyone on this spirited ride.

Life after my passing, they embraced a newfound boon,
The insurance lump sum, it changed their fortune's tune.
I couldn't touch or hold them, as I wished I could do,
But from my vantage point, their joy and success I knew.

I watched them from the shadows, my heart filled with delight,
My family, my beloved, though words can't convey it right.
In this realm beyond the living, my emotions ebb and flow,
I am content for them, in this ephemeral afterglow.

Not in a loving way for some, perhaps, but love remains,
A connection that transcends, as our spirits break their chains.
In this surreal day of the dead, I find solace and peace,
As love endures beyond the living, where all our troubles cease.

A photo in a silver frame
as from the grave, find a spirit raised
the joy that sat within my bones
the welcome that was ever home

Sweet candy cane the kisses missed
music be the need to speak
for grief its temperance is seeped
 break its grip, when each should meet

A bowl of fruit, was life at best
to perish and yet to refresh
was born to rot and root again
as relatives, hold each sustained

The drift of incense, comfort come  
to dance to see each new born one
and know departing`s gallows are
relit candles, of veiled emotions charred

 Join the march to brief mortality
bright pennants flutter, like the heart that greets
deep conversations without banality
for that time, its hours be ever brief

When newly weds, fate intervenes
white dressed bride with broken dreams
one day return, to reunite
 love its power, the amber flowers delight

Boquets to bear the spirit up
as from the soil in flame erupts
mute sorrow changed to festival
 table set to welcome all

 To replay the headstones words
leave the soil loose, to be disturbed
my corpse wont lie and ever bide
death cant break loves knot, that`s tied    

When I got to the bathroom there’s a sugar skull staring at me
Or if I’m cooking and grab a towel, another is there to dry my hands
Whether I walk in the hallway, sit in my living room or type at my desk
Hanging on the walls or on my bed, sugar skulls are everywhere

My house is a tribute to the dead
All year round like a station downtown where the train is about to leave
And when our ancestors visit us in dreams
We share the memory and stories of those we once grieved

For my wife’s grandfather, they had birthday parties on Halloween
For her grandmother, there are crosses and elephant decorations
The shelf next to our bedroom is filled with more trinkets
The little reminders passed down to from generation to generation

For my pops, every year a beer
I like to reminisce and remember the old times
We know they never really left us
They just transcended into our hearts and minds

Although el Dia de los Muertos may be celebrated once a year
My house is always decorated in sugar skulls thanks to my wife
It’s a remembrance of those who have crossed the bridge
Because around here, everyday is Day of the Dead in my life

Love and thoughts have power beyond the physical realm
They call to us with a spiritual and emotional connection
Because in the land of the living, while they cry and grieve
Those of us from across the bridge still feel their affection

Sometimes their prayers sound like distant echoes and questions
While those of us from across the bridge smile at their supplications
Wishing that they would adhere to our old advice and suggestions
Hoping they share our stories and lessons with the new generations

From across the great void sometimes we hear about their pain
And with love we always wish we could take away the suffering
But once a year when they open that beautiful rainbow bridge
We walk amongst them enjoying all the wonderful offerings

And it’s there on that night when our spirits come together
When I see the loves of my life gathered remembering our time
And they pull out pieces of paper and other notes I wrote
Hearing them laugh at the poetry and words I left behind

I’ll come to you in dreams or in short flashes of memory
Or if my picture falls off from the magnet on the fridge
I’ll be there in songs or in a rhyme that reminds you of me
Just remember I love you,
Sincerely,
Me
From across the bridge