A Holy Sonnet? The Path of Many Feet

In England, where it’s proper to be brave,
they use a graveyard set in well-trimmed lawns;
an excavator’s parked behind the trees.
Here, mourners move toward an open grave.
A workman with a shovel nods and yawns.
A woman, weeping, falls upon her knees.

In India a funeral pyre is lit,
while in Tibet a priest is spreading bones;
the rites of death proceed from place to place,
and God is watching over all of it.
He hears the prayers, the sobbing, and the moans
of those who grieve, from every creed and race…

Poor Peter needs to scoot on roller skates,
to cover all the different Pearly Gates.