Poem by R.M. Dolin, 2013
Dia de los Muertos (Day of the Dead)
Marigolds in orange,
departed hues of aging
Bourbon; the blank calacas
may mask the moment
but cannot sequester the soul.
Outward existence only.
Vivir el momento, for soon it is gone.
The finality of no,
like aging memories
does not soften with time.
He lights a candle
and remembers her smile,
her scent,
and the way she calmed
his conflicted soul.
The tragedy of loss,
does not soften with time.
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