it is a long line of people
like a snake
winding itself on a
hill towards the spot
where a big tree
stands
the snake's mouth
opens and
spits you
right in the hole
six feet below
the ground
and then the women
wail.and then the clouds
pay its tribute
with a little rain.
and then you are
forgotten. another boy
wears your name
and starts life all over
again.
RIC S. BASTASA
http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/a-funeral-in-the-barrio/
