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RABBI DAVIDSON

Tallith at his shoulders
he recites Kaddish,
keening loud lamentations
that will not wake the dead.
A survivor of atrocities,
Rabbi Davidson prays
to the God of Abraham
for comfort in a hostile world.
He asks for neither vengeance
nor justice. These hands that once
lifted young Samuel,
once touched the soft cheek
of the infant Sara, will not be raised
against the Father of Creation.
Instead, open and upturned,
these hands beg for Yahweh's gifts
of sunlight and an old man's peace.

(C) 2001 Salvatore Amico M. Buttaci

SERVICES

Old Father Murphy dressed in somber black cassock
recites prayers over Mrs. O'Bannion's casket
while all around the gravesite tears cascade
from mourners' eyes, some sincere, some
contrived.
Downcast, they dig their chins tight against
their chests.
Then, cap in hand, the gravedigger Flynn
clears his throat to signal to the rest
assembled here to note the time and say
their very last goodbyes so he can work.
Mrs. Reilly mentally runs through a new recipe
for the tuna casserole she'll bake tonight.
She nods her head as if each ingredient
were the name of Jesus-- a litany for O'Bannion.
The crowds shuffle towards their cars and waiting
cabs
to the chagrin of Patty Sheridan,
uncle of the deceased, who thinks their hasty
exit
vulgar. "A stampede of cattle, is it?"
he mumbles. "A fine send-off for that sweet
niece of mine. To be treatin' her like some
castaway!"
Meanwhile, Father Murphy drones away at his
Catholic eulogy about how Margie O'Bannion
was a classic example of the sinless soul
prepared to meet her Maker. Mrs. Reilly mentally

chokes on her tuna casserole, coughs, then
wonders
what will be said of her when death catches her
here in this sad place. Will the good Father
Murphy's words sprout her wings, present a clean
white bill of spirit health,
and like O'Bannion, win her a brand new
reputation?

© 2001 Salvatore Amico M. Buttaci

© All Copyright, Salvatore Amico M. Buttaci.
All Rights Reserved. Printed By Permission.