Steven Getz Poet Narrative

The Unkept Grave

At the edge of the old cemetery,
I found an unkept grave.
It was though the person interned there, 
Had a soul no one could save.

Her tombstone contained two dates 
That showed the term of her long life. 
But few remember what she was like 
Before she passed on to the afterlife.

Rumors among the city old folk 
Suggested she always lived alone,
In a mansion down on Mason Road, 
Where only vandals roam.

Some people say she was a spinster, 
Who led a vacuous life,
And the grave’s condition fit her,  
Because her life was full of strife.

And others say she had two children, 
Who grew up and moved away.
Those people did not know why they left,
Only that they did not stay.

So, I went to her ramshackle home, 
Still vacant to this day,
And walked around its exterior, 
But I decided not to stay.

I saw a small blank gravestone in its backyard 
In an advanced stage of decay.
Some people say it marked her miscarriage 
From a lover who did not stay.

Others say it was her pet’s grave,
One she loved so very much. 
They couldn’t remember its name, 
But said it was her emotional crutch.

A few days later, I went to her grave,
And hacked down its overgrowth, 
Then straightened up her tombstone, 
And hoped she’d appreciated both.

But they widened the cemetery road one day, 
And moved her grave somewhere far away.
Nobody came forward to complain.
I found that out the other day.

Some people’s lives are mysteries, 
And many leave no legacy.
And like the dead buried at sea 
They leave only unkept memories.

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Suzanne Delaney February 28, 2024 at 1:22 PM Such a sad poem. This unknown lady is given a wonderful gift -in you caring enough to wonder and tend her unkempt burial site. SuZ Steven Getz March 29, 2024 at 10:25 AM Yes. It was written to remind people that some souls get abandoned in death, just like they were abandoned in life. In the end, the person who cleaned up here grave was the only person who really cared enough about her to try to understand who she was while she was living. Hence, the final stanza of the poem.