Cortege

We followed others,

taking highways through towns where she never lived,

in a town I won’t go back to.

I won’t know how.

I’d been there before in dreams,

near our summer cottage.

If you took the Indian trail,

You’d come upon this place

of tall monuments

against a hillside

with ancient writing.

I went many times. I never felt frightened.

In life, the path frightened me.

I never knew it existed

until the day we drove in

through the gates

in our rental car

and the road curved

and we drove slowly

and it was all green

and there was the hillside

with white monuments.  

I’d been there.

She knew no one there.

She was buried next to no one she knows.

She’s buried in a town she didn't know

but might have driven through

or maybe stopped in

for manicures or rugelach,

And now I won’t find her again.

I won’t visit her there

until I am back on the Indian trail.