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And the cemetery was still and serene
A palette of muted greens, browns, tans and warm gray scene
Fence-post with barbed wire surrounds the garden
Seashells and caliza, sage brush, cactus, and mesquite trees harden
Tall cold stones erect sentries
Standing on sacred ground granting entry
In the garden of seashells and sage brush

A cemetery of generations of families
Grandmothers and grandfathers
Their parents and family before them
Tugging at our memories
Whispering shadows of their secrets
All lie with crowns of stones
As their names are etched on marble stones
While others with ceramic photographs of the dearly departed
So they, won’t be forgotten
All with stories to tell


My head down with sadness
My heart skips a beat in my chest
I stand and look at the headstone of my once beautiful grandmother
And lay a bouquet of red roses at the feet of the stone
I kneel and clean the surroundings of weeds that have sprang up
And dust of the ceramic photograph

Wistful thinking

Her smile with a flicker of spark in her eyes
All the good times we used to have
She taught me not to be afraid,
To drive her white 1958 Impala

And the cemetery was still and serene
I know it’s an empty vessel that lay in the sandstone
As her soul grew wings long ago
And in heaven she’s watching over all she has left behind

5/20/2016

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    Spiritually Fulfilled

Gazing at the sky
Spiritually fulfilled
Cherished memories

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