Anniversary Day at Mount Jerome

by Jonny Voorheis

Gravel up the slope,
men in the stone yard
hands worn under granite
and limestone
and black Kilkenny marble.
Sacred hearts and Celtic crosses,
intonations eaten by acid rain.
The river culvert by the southern wall.
Jack B. somewhere here,
so too the 222 babies of the Bethany Home.
The little band of friends up the lee-side of the hill,
picking a path
between the great slabs of scarred rock
all the way to the recent plots.
Flowers and jars, arranging and laying,
Anna reads a poem,
the six crescented around the grave,
breath blooming in billows.
Each takes their moment,
kisses the hand that touches the stone.
Gone before the family comes,
tokens that say we remember too.

Image by Ksenia Chernaya via Pexels