All For The Dead Poem by RIC BASTASA

at the mausoleum of my ancestors
i light my 50 candles
put the white carnations on
glass vases

every nook here is painted white
the grills are always black
tradition we always honor them
on on the coming marked day

we who remain alive flock and pray
despite the sufferings inflicted
we show respect and recall
and savor what they all left here

never mind the deed we are one in saying
never mind those dagger words
we keep the fortune of a lifetime
those that they cannot carry in the

world where they are silenced now
black crow and rusty screw