Wednesday, July 9, 2008

The Graveyard

There is a graveyard,

Down the road

Littered with cold, gray headstones,

Peaking out,

Of the dewy grass.

They’re engraved in script,

The names of perished loved ones,

May soon be lost to the rain.

Marble and granite tombs,

Are filled with musty smells,

And house families,

That wish to never be separated.

People in wooded coffins,

Remain beneath the earth,

With no sense of night,

Or day or the weather;

No sense of light or darkness,

For they sleep simply in eternal dimness.

The gravestones are final remembrances of these people,

Whose lives,

And whose deaths we celebrate,

And learn to embrace.

We watch them in downpours,


Blistering heat,

Blustery skies.

Their full names,

Distinguish them,

For as long as the font lasts

And mark their resting places,

Remaining a final tribute.

There is a certain joy in going to a graveyard though;

The comfort of sitting there,

Knowing that people lay peacefully,

With not a care in the world.

Families reunite to bring,

Flowers and crosses and Stars of David,

Teddy bears flags and pictures

For others,

That they loved.

This devotion brings happiness to onlookers,

That observe the care some families take,

For those that they cherished.

But the commitment to go to the graveyard,

Each time something important happens,


The visits decreasing slowly,

Until the grave diggers come.

They replace one plot,

And make room,

For a newly deceased,

A new tombstone

And a new family.

People with fresh respect,

For their departed acquaintance,

And more flowers that remain by a casket,

Before finally disintegrating,

Into the earth.


Anonymous said...

I really liked the tone of the poem

Erin C. said...

i can't beleive you thought that this was bad !!! i love it

Gina said...

Hi, you probably don't know who I am but I went to CWP last summer and I'm going to the second session, blah blah blah. Anyway, I thought this was cool because many people wouldn't choose this subject to write about. There is a lot of observational truths in here that make this really nice to read. The only thing I can think of to fix is that peeking is spelled wrong. Great job!

Kitty said...

AWESOME you should be really proud, Alex (just kidding about the name) No, seriously elisabeth. its great.