It is Dia de Los Muertos
and the veils are very thin.
Days are shorter now and colder
with the darkness filling in.
Fallen leaves lie skeletal,
shadows play with wind and fear.
Children who are here no longer
want to visit, very near.
Ashen children cannot play,
wear their costumes, trick or treat,
but abuela’s altar draws them –
come like bees to taste the sweets.
Abuela – she’s outlived them all,
seen the children in their coffins,
seen the families weeping, calling
darling babies, sons and daughters.
Now diaphanous ones arriving
pulled by candles, waxy air,
pulled by flowers, icons, others,
their own photos, locks of hair.
With the scent of marigolds
at the edge and urged by love,
intermingling with the living,
almost tasting, almost touch.
It is Dia de Los Muertos
and the veils are very thin.
Days are shorter now and colder
with the darkness filling in.
ABOUT THE AUTHOR
Carol Griffin writes poetry to explore life circumstance, both inner and outer. She is fascinated with how poems can transform us. She writes with humor, depth and love about nature, family, and self. Her poems delve into what it means to be human and our potential to move toward peace. Interested in poetic form since memorizing Keats and Byron at 13, Carol finds challenge and pleasure in form. Her poems have been published in the Marin Poetry Center Anthology since 2010.