Rest In Peace

 

Walk between them
walk among
these rows and rows
of silent stones,
they mark the place
where we came from
forefather's graves
we are their sons

Tipped over stones
fall into ruin
so seldom do
the kinfolk come,
this holy place
too far for some
the pace too slow
for those who run

Yet drawn toward
these silent stones
one still walks
between, among,
the memory of
soon overcomes
what faith they had
now there is none

Oaks shade the path
now overgrown
the squeaky gate
still leaning some,
caw of a crow
the setting sun
a place reserved
our time will come.
 

 

 

◄ Pondering

Breeds Of Poets ►

Comments

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M.C. Newberry

Tue 25th Jan 2022 16:33

A subject rarely touched upon in the hustle and bustle of modern
life.
I think of cemeteries like libraries - keeping records of what has been and gone and there to remind and inform us of our past.
Whitened and often neglected, these stones
Are signposts to whitened neglected bones!

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keith jeffries

Tue 25th Jan 2022 13:49

A poem which takes the reader to a place often shunned and at best forgotten but so full of emotion. You have created the right atmosphere in your words. A good poem indeed.
Thanks for this
Keith

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