Lament of the tombstones

Broken and forgotten, lichen embracing its cracks and fissures

the moss-covered graveyard mourns in eerie silence.

As i walked among the dead and mouldering leaves

a lonely withering rose clings to life, determined to live, while

paying homage to the rot and decay of long worm eaten

flesh and bones, now turned and returned to dust

i felt such camaraderie with the moth, lichen and

beautiful comforting weeds which enveloped and cuddled

with the evening primrose, ragworts, black nightshades,

creeping buttercups and thistles, dandelions, fleabanes

goldenrods, white clovers and white pink roses, as they

clasp the lonely ragged stones in fond embrace

as if soothing them from the pain and sorrow

of long abandonment of those who once came

but now nevermore place flowers or trinkets at the shrine

of loved ones now gone and lost in time

The shadows whisper of those loved ones

who themselves may now be also in a graveyard of their own

I remember a mother once, ponders the voices

who came everyday for many years,

to cry at the shrine of her young lost child

we mourned with her, hoping that in time she would heal

and so allow the young one to rest in peace and quietly sleep

under the starry nights and blue sky of sunny days.

The headstones which still stand, their messages tarnished with the

passages of rain and dew, snow and sunlight sadly read:

"Here lies John, gone but not forgotten".

"Mary Grantham, beloved wife and mother".

"Angelica, only two days in this world. Rest on angel wings".

"You were a tyrant in life, I hope you get what is coming to you".

Wow! That one must have been really bad!

Then:

"Cry not for me, for my life was fully lived and happily I go to my rest"

Completely saved the dreary day.

Maybe with a bit of sprucing up

The sad, melancholic feel of death and decay

Can be transformed into hope and peaceful rest

For those sleeping beneath faded leaves and broken headstones

And so rekindle the long lost glory, of a forgotten resting place.

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