A Dream
A DREAM
By David F. Henrie
Last night I dreamed, but not of Manderlay.
It was instead of the Oak Ridge Cemetery, in Springfield,
where death somehow evokes life.
The moon bathed everything with silver.
It was easy to find my way through rows of grave markers.
I was drawn inexplicably to the large tomb
with its tall obelisk, a smaller version of the one by
the Potomac in Washington, DC.
I heard sounds coming from within and walked by his statue.
Entering, I stood by the massive granite cenotaph over his grave and the sounds grew louder.
Abe Lincoln was sobbing in his grave.
His bright summer promise of four score and seven
has become our dark winter of deception and fear.
[email protected] - Scottsdale, AZ
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