Thursday, June 23, 2011
Coming Upon a Grave in the Woods
Coming Upon A Grave in the Woods
Worn gray, marble stone
That marks a life to me unknown,
Now rotted cloth and pristine bone.
In life begins, in death undone.
The pitted surface, I trace a name
Made unreadable by wind and rain,
The flesh decayed, the bones remain.
The wind reveals a whispered name.
Ever since I was a kid, I've loved graveyards. Especially the old ones with carved angels, effigies and skulls with wings. I am fascinated by graveyard statuary, mausoleums and old rusted cemetery gates. Basically anything that feels like a setting for a really good ghost story. Most people have a photo album containing family pictures. I have one containing pictures of graveyards from all over the USA. My family would humor me on trips and go out of their way to stop and let me tour an old cemetery or two. They actually are good sports about it, although some family members and friends find it odd.
For some reason spending time walking through a cemetery is very comforting to me.
I find peace among the tombstones and cypress trees, weeping willows and rusted gates. I'm not sure why. Perhaps it's the act of my remembering that these people were once flesh like me. They experienced love and loss, joy and sorrow, and all too quickly they were gone. It makes you appreciate every precious moment.
Word of the Day: macabre. (adjective) extremely disturbing or repellent; horrible.