Funeral, Old San Juan
Brandon Cook
It was strange to have a funeral stumble into our vacation, interrupting our laughter
We were the interlopers, of course, but the audacity to be reminded
That bodies still grow cold so far from home
Made us pause, suddenly silent in the great burning heat
The cobblestones bore the weight well, and some tourists paused
A young man held up his hand
As a coffin was lifted as a pyre to remind the skies and all
There is no place to run to;
All things fall
But then, after the drums led the mourning band down the street, at the sedulous pace of grief
The crowd around us started again—
Like a forest come to life after an eclipse, shaking off the dark
And I grabbed your hand, wondering what we might have for dessert
And what delights awaited us in such a green and sparkling land