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iron gates -
swing open on rusty hinges
the day           cold         and windy
the cemetery is old       
           with rows and rows
of headstones 
and massive stone crypts
I  love the statues-  
         weathered beautiful
fall crisp trees bending in prayer
    and all the roads intersect
rough and cracked      uneven with ruts
      leaves brittle   orange and red crunch
beneath my meandering feet
inscriptions    a la memoire du      everywhere
a trickling pond     amongst the tombs
oh stop and contemplate  the whisper
     a gnarled tree protects your rest
the breeze takes my hair     and my tears
mother     such fathomless love     but 
your memory
is a dagger in my heart      plunging
   over and over again-
mother   here repose in peace   and I 
   who forever griefs    and bleeds
will never let go      never is eternity
  and here I  place a lip kissed
red rose            oh the pain of the 
grief-stricken _

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October 7, 2015

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