Their grief is muted, unlike
the expressions in my own culture,
a white cloth
draped across the long
raven braids, a symbol of
mourning.
Two young brothers, side by side,
deeply bow
as the white incense candles are lit,
then lead the way to the chapel.
A coin sparkles in the candlelight,
one her mother placed near her,
among other things,
considered necessary for the journey
into her new life.
Her ashes, tossed into the waters
of the gulf, not wanting to let go,
continue to wash back to shore,
clinging to the ankles of
her mother.
With the rush of a snow-capped
wave, she finally says goodbye.
Soon she will awaken on
another shore.
And the bells tolled.