Day of the Dead Poems - courtesy of Prima Sharon

Wednesday, November 2, 2011


What is Death?

What is death? It is the glass of life broken into a 
thousand pieces, where the soul disperses like 
perfume from a flask, into the silence of the eternal 
night.

Unknown Author

Message in Colors

Lit candles. Faces. Memories
and an entrance that's a rainbow: protection for the place
of rest and meditation.
Necklaces. Cempasuchitl, pre-Hispanic links, songs,
paper medals, flames talking to the wind
the diverse language departed. 
It is the prime time of the celebration
or death's thread, threaded
through time's needle.
It is the decomposition of matter, transformed into art.
It is the final curtain awaken from death in *Ocotepec.
Yes. An eternal dream of uncorrupt flowers and of 
gibberish.
It is death's lament, fading away
and it is also the respect made a tribute.
Who could have imagined so much beauty on a tomb?
Mole. Glass of water. Copal. Salt. Prayers.
Firecrackers. Fruits. Bread. Music.
Corridos. Bolas. Romantic songs.
History, praised. Creativity, expressed
in its most raw form...
And it is the color purple, elegies in white, blue, pink.
It is a blow from grace so heightened as artificial fire
that reveals the soul's presence in the darkness.
Something like the flowering of martyrdon in flames.
An arrangement for the end or the posthumous splendor.
In Morelos everything is possible
gloom battles with life and its victor,
it is once again for a little which, happiness, live tradition
which overcomes reality.
It was before these ornate gravesites, when I knew
that in *Ocotepec, as in my heart, 
those that have departed return every year to remind us of 
their love.
And that only LOVE can save us.

Julie Sopetran

*Ocotepec is a small town to the north of the city of Cuernavaca

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