The Dead Along the River Speak Again

I pass this small Japanese cemetery again,

the one I passed so long ago on a creaky old

bicycle at the sleepy bend in the Kiso River.

This time I watch it whip past from the window

of a roaring express train.

The speed can’t outrun the sadness in my heart.

A little further down the line

the train will stop, I’ll get off, walk a short distance

to a small church, and at the funeral

say goodbye to a dear friend.