HC (29 January 1947 / New York, NY)

Driving By The Boneyard

Driving by a boneyard
in January, I see winter sky
naked trees &
bare stones, row on row
marking time
marking lives...

Cold air
the breath of graves
carries voices of the dead:
They cry out in silence,
like Hamlet's father's ghost,
'Remember me.'
yet all ultimately forgotten.

Long after bones have
returned to dust &
mute stones crumbled by aeons
They still utter their voiceless cry,
'Remember! '
& no one hears
no one cares

& still seasons change
sun rises & sets:
grasses grown long
wave mournfully
with winter's breeze
obscuring the ruined stones

& only ghosts' ghosts can hear
the plaintive cry,
'Remember me' silently mouthed
by dry dust & scattered molecules
for all that lives must die
& all mankind
of great or humble birth
must submit to the catholic
& inevitable workings of the earth.

(Copyright 1/25/2006)

User Rating: 4,8 / 5 ( 2 votes ) 7

Comments (7)

I love the imagery - there is nothing so forlorn as a graveyard in winter. -chuck
This is a winter painting composed with a grim tenderness that is very touching. There is a graveyard high on a hill above my house where a lady poet lies buried beneath an epitaph which she composed herself. I wish she could know that she is an inspiration to my poetry. Perhaps she does. Fine poem. Regards, Sandra Fowler
Hugh, Layer upon layer building to a sobering crescendo. Beautifully executed. Gregory
i fully agree with dreux. well done! u.
A very moving poem here Hugh, beautifully constructed, thought provoking too. Love Ernestine XXX
See More