A Visit to the Cemetery (Memorial Day 2010)
I walk narrow paths
trees sheltering light rain
and marble stones.
There is Grandma Kate
and Grandpa Matt.
2-12-1900, 12-1-1982
8-22-1899, 2-23-1983
These stones tell names and dates,
but cannot tell soul stories.
The parade is marching.
I will plant
my gift of love.
Kneeling in the dirt
I pull a lonely weed.
Shadows shiver through the rain.
I plant living seeds
and fill the holes with tears.
The parade is marching closer.
They see my bleeding grief.
Flags are flying high.
They wave
their gift of love.
A gift for you, my son.
Its essence captures
your brief glow in life.
8-20-1961, 5-31,1986
Memorial Day became your flag
winds whispering your song.
I still hear you calling, mom.
The rain has stopped.
The parade passed by.
Another year will pass.
My gift-
forget-me-nots.
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