Max,
The last funeral I attended I was glad, as pall bearer, not to have to undergo the traditional shoulder-high grip. It is acceptable to go underarm now it seems. In your case, not even that. The language of death now - botanical cemetery etc - is designed, probably, to demystify but ends up sounding just ludicrous. The 'whirring' you mention also undignifies the occasion, almost comically. I liked 'beyond al landmarks' and also, as Pat points out, the delicious touch of the locked exit gate.
Bill
On 11/09/2013, at 6:21 PM, Patrick McManus <[log in to unmask]> wrote:
> Max The locked exit gate scared me!!thanks for another picture
> P
>
> -----Original Message-----
> From: Poetryetc: poetry and poetics [mailto:[log in to unmask]] On
> Behalf Of Max Richards
> Sent: 11 September 2013 01:07
> To: [log in to unmask]
> Subject: 'Springvale'
>
> Springvale: a Visit
>
> You drive an age
> beyond all landmarks
> then start to feel
> you're almost there.
>
> Sure enough, discreet signs
> point you off the highway
> into what no longer calls itself
> The Necropolis.
>
> 'Botanical Cemetery',
> please, as if plants
> are buried here.
> No, countless roses bloom
>
> everywhere this week,
> and signs encourage us
> towards magnolia gardens,
> fuchsia - on and on.
>
> We know which chapel, glimpse
> the family whose mourning
> we're here to join,
> all except their old man.
>
> His framed portrait
> fronts us in our pews.
> Mild, upright citizen
> capable of sternness.
>
> A long, active life
> of service and family,
> work, pleasure, travel,
> home. Blessed, mostly.
>
> The widow, married sixty
> good years, now frail,
> leaning on frame and
> daughters, stoical.
>
> The son's eulogy mixes
> the earnest and the humorous.
> The deaconess tells of the best
> of parishioners and councillors.
>
> The Lord is our Shepherd.
> Prayer. Amen. She has to reach up
> to scatter on the high coffin
> symbolic Ashes to Ashes.
>
> The family leads us out.
> Pallbearers not required.
> A whirring near the coffin
> signals it's sinking.
>
> Nothing to be done
> but walk to the tearoom
> past blossoms, flowering
> shrubs and trees, water.
>
> The old man's portrait
> has come too, benign
> as we take refreshment
> and ask after each other.
>
> Another time look for
> 'The Garden of No Distant Place'.
> The first exit gate is locked.
> The second obliges.
>
> The drive home seems quicker
> than the previous one
> from the familiar
> to the distantly remote.
>
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