Walking past the cemetery I was inspired to write a little slice of life vignette. Based on a true story, my true experience.
I live across the street form a cemetery dating back to the 1700’s which is amazing for a big city. History abounds there. Spiritual sacrifices happen there, chickens, liquor, collectors of cemetery dirt happen there, certain Santos live there.
On a corner section grounds visible from the sidewalk there are two great pillars of smooth stone. Both are three stories high. One has a six-foot cross on top. The other has an eleven-foot Jesus poised welcomely.
On my obligatory walk to the supermarket the cross was off the top of the pillar and sideways nearly upside down on the dirt ground. I didn’t think much of it.
Months later on my customary walk to the supermarket, there was Jesus upside down on the dirt ground.
The grounds keepers noticed and placed Jesus right side up planted firmly on the dirt ground next to the pillar. Jesus was not placed on top of the stone pillar. It’s better that way. They have not righted the cross yet.
I can’t say who or what pushed the cross and Jesus down because there’s security making rounds all night ever since a homeless man camped out in a mausoleum after removing the resident dead body.
You can’t climb straight up the pillars, there is nothing to adhere and hold on to.
I can say that I have lived here long enough to know this very old cemetery has mysterious ways of interpreting sacrifices, chicken, liquor, stolen dirt, petitions from those wearing all white and those that pray at the cemetery gates.
purelysimplewords 