The names go on and on,
the rabbi’s voice unwavering
to support those who grieve,
reverent to respect the living and the dead.
The names move on and on,
merely labels for much of the congregation.
Impossible to know who among them loved
chocolate milk shakes, perfected
linguini with clam sauce, slept best
on the left side of the bed,
screamed in delighted fear on roller coasters,
apologized after every loss of temper.
The names come on and on
in alphabetical order.
I hold my breath – exhale as I stand
when we reach yours.
Only after all the names are spoken
is the prayer recited,
to praise God
who continues despite all.
Yet, my comfort is more.
Your name said aloud,
still heard,
as the world goes on and on.
