Rising From My Grave

Bury me not in a gloomy yard Shaded by the wall of a church, Where graves look jaded and old Their epitaphs veiled in smirch. Lay me near some water’s edge, Under leafy conifers tall, Sheltered from the heat and rain, Where twittering birds would enthrall. Plant seeds of trees that flower So their roots may grow unseen, Winding across my jaded wood Their probing relentlessly keen. Let wiry creepers reach out low To my grave in candid play, For mourners a prayerful glance When they visit on “All Souls’ day”. May seasons weary trundle by Their shadows across my yard, My surreal self would wink at them For being my soulful guard. Germinating in a cradle brown Pale green with a coloured hue, Shall rise again with a radiant sun Embraced by the endless blue. ***********