Tuesday, December 16, 2008

Dust to Dust

Oftentimes the textures to be found in cemeteries, lichens on the stones, decaying metals, the symbolism abundant bearing reminders that our time here is finite, a sunflower crafted in silver coated lead or bronze or whatnot, cemeteries are infinite sources for me, I have never visited one that did not provide sobering glimpses into past lives of souls who went before us to the light, if such be the case. And sometimes, cemeteries may inspire poems...

There's a graveyard behind my dormitory
A cemetery behind this seminary of a home
My window faces east
I awake to sunrise and tombstones
I'll get there one day
To this solemn place
Or someplace like it
But why remind myself so often
When one is young as I am
There is no need to believe that
Death is absolutely inevitable
The ground out there is still frozen, in April
I wonder if the dead decompose
More slowly here than in warmer climes
The worms have little time to do their work
Between frosts in this cold‑beleagured town
Dust to dust takes longer in Flagstaff
This morning a light dusting of snow
Set the dark stones in sharp relief
The sun was rising
I was relieved to be alive
I wondered if the dead were grateful
For their cold, thin blanket

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