written on my trip to Chicago

I wrote this in a Catholic cemetery outside Chicago on August 13, 2009 and just discovered it in a journal:

The silenced sleep as
the EL screeches on
its track, carrying the tardy
to Wrigley field.
This cemetery is not a town
it is a cathedral in
purgatory
where the dead grow
old waiting for Heaven -
stained glass enshrines Mary
and her tormented, savior
son. Stone angels bow
at her feet, this queen
of the Catholic deceased
Irish born and Chicago raised.
You strip the dry, northern grass
and hundreds, thousands
a congregation of suited, flowered, good
Catholics crossing
themselves in dirt and darkness
waiting for their promise of infinite light.