changelingchild
12-29-2009, 12:25 AM
Those graves are not tall
Or gaudy
They are simple, flat
Just names etched into plaques
You step on them and don’t notice
They are overgrown and dirty
Mostly
Some have flowers
Waxy, false, and wet
This is no place to visit
No place to sit and pray
These graves seem to say
“Leave us! We are not here under this grass!”
“We are not these small monuments!”
“Go home and smile.”
“We do not endure beneath blank-eyed angels,
whose faces are weathered by rain, whose eyes have never smiled.”
“We live on in your eyes, surrounded by wrinkles etched by laughter.”
Those plain graves
They speak
Or gaudy
They are simple, flat
Just names etched into plaques
You step on them and don’t notice
They are overgrown and dirty
Mostly
Some have flowers
Waxy, false, and wet
This is no place to visit
No place to sit and pray
These graves seem to say
“Leave us! We are not here under this grass!”
“We are not these small monuments!”
“Go home and smile.”
“We do not endure beneath blank-eyed angels,
whose faces are weathered by rain, whose eyes have never smiled.”
“We live on in your eyes, surrounded by wrinkles etched by laughter.”
Those plain graves
They speak