The Pastor is up there giving
an homily for our lost friend
and beyond,   symbols,   a blank wall
we should see through,  a cross,
a tapestry, or a vast vacancy.

We are to focus on the absent
but only see a wall of backs
bare heads, necks, hair, collars, moles
faces left and right stare ahead
not seeing each other
turning backs on the many
obedient, should we worship thus
not seeing each other. Not facing grief.

Why do we ignore the living?
in these white churches
should there not be drama
the Gods there in front
playing out the life, the death,
at the center an amphitheater
where we can see crying
lamentations, and damn the Gods
for it, hold hands, touch.

Face the past, remember.
Stand in a circle, see each other
affirm our presence
the dead is gone.