November 1 Poem by Anton Nino Diego Baena

If this could be the best way
to describe this modern Samhain:

Flowers and candles abound, only
for the souls in purgatory?

The eyes can see
Hags wailing, teens kissing,
children playing, adutls drinking.
Merry making of the breathing-
activity of the living-over the dead
six feet under the realm of silence.
Here in this mixture of sand, gravel,
and grass.

Still life this portrait of human longing,
We the passing shadows of the finite.

So life equals death, equals the after life?
another life beyond this rancid flesh?
Where?

Nowhere

It seems no heaven
nor hell, for us

The infidels.