Graveyard In The Snow

Today, I cannot find your grave,
because the stone with your name
is set in the earth,
down, where it is not in the way,
when the caretakers mow the grass,
now you are covered with snow.

Everything is white,
so full of peace, so still,
I sit on the bench,
it is so cold, but
I feel so close to you,
after all, you are cold,
under the earth,
under this white sheet,
hidden, but there, I know.

Only a raven,
shiny in funeral coat of feathers,
black against the white,
sits with me, in a tree,
not far, insistently cawing,
a warning, an emphatic word
of solace.

The trees, dark green
under the snow,
are so silent,
I can hear a soft sliding,
when the clumps of snow
fall on the ground,
startling the raven.
He flies away,
a shadow against the clouds
of winter sky.

I must leave you now,
the deep cavity of my grief
is like the silence
of your snow-covered grave,
enticing me to stay.
But I have promised
a pledge to live,
before I can sleep
under the snow.

by Martina E. Elenbaas

Comments (2)

I went to my wife's grave today after a new snowfall. She has a gravestone so I know where she lies but found your beautiful poem which gave me such comfort. I spent a week in the Netherlands last summer Thank you for your poetry.
This is very lovely. And sad. And heartfelt. I think I can tell a bit of Dutch heritage, maybe I am daydreaming. But I loved the poem. H