The Angel

The Angel
“In heaven an angel is nobody in particular. George Bernard Show

the angel looks as confused as I.
it’s been looking over this cemetery
for years.  and all it sees are the same dead
put into holes – and covered with dirt
that doesn’t grow any flowers or grass.
tacky silk flowers adorn each grave,
faded in the sun and blown by the wind
to another grave or across the road.
It ponders the people planted in this garden –
a garden that produces no fruit
or vegetables, no flowers or trees.
in rain or sun,
snow or heat.
it just looks and ponders
and continues to look confused.

used by permission of Susie Clevenger

The Old Wall

 

The Old Wall
The wall around our family plot in the cemetery
is waist high and built from local stones.
The stones are weathered
and some are missing.
My great-grandfather’s great-grandfather
built the wall when the first grave was interred –
his wife and son, both of them dead in childbirth.
Grief built the wall.
Grief holds it there.
Covered in lichen and moss,
sometimes a few fallen leaves,
sometimes a small stone added to the top
to record a visit.
It wraps around the graves
holding them in its secure embrace.
The wall was there when I was born.
It will be there when I die.

Old stone wall with moss and lichen

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