This is a grief and I must bear it.
-Jeremiah 10:19

In a shaft of light
which is also time
liminal and amber
I see her lifting her arms
and behind her squinting stands
her sunburnt farmer father
who behind him stands his jowly 
French mother in a housedress
who behind her stands her serious
bearded Mason father
for whom my brother is named.

In a long streaming lemon shine
their chests breaking open
with gold inside, their arms full of soil,
and I stand at the base. She holds onto me
without letting go of the others
full of perpetual life in this dust
mote beam from epoch to age
through wars and farms and papers
having nothing and possessing all
in this wave of yellow memory.

I see it all sorrowful yet rejoicing
humbled but not despairing
that she’s gone along
with all the others.

Lead me to the grass
Lead me by my name