Saturday, September 27, 2014

Evening Walk Past a Cemetery

This creepy cemetery actually is only two houses down from my apartment.  It gives me the creeps, and every time I pass it, I think to myself of (morbid, I know) everything the dead are missing...the summer air, shopping for christmas, decorating for halloween, family celebrations....merely to breathe!  It makes me more grateful for all my moments, but it's also a little depressing.  So, that's really what this poem is about.


Tonight my feet are gold spheres,
I’m pushing past the footpath,
Shoe-soles folded against concrete
Like an eclipse no one else can see.

Traffic is waving past me,
All those twinkling headlights
And busy people, they are needful,
Always tugging for more room,
A futile searching for things unfound.

I turn the corner and stumble past them,
An ocean full of broken stones,
My heartbeats following the same flight
As a flock of blackbirds,
The trill of a lone, hungry bat.

There’s an animal instinct in me to flee
The broken bushes, wind-soul of the eerie silence.
A cold piece of the inner city where
Deaths’ door reigns an omnipotent whoosh
Between ancient trees and chipping concrete.

I believe there are secrets the dead keep,
A universe-full of unwritten scribe,
Perhaps the heartbeat reappears,
Unable to break the cork of coffin and soil
Once the flowers wilt and the grass regrows
And I’m not yet ready to hear some invisible voice,
Have my flesh tarnished by the untouchable.

Senses keen, I’m suddenly aware
There is no reconciliation
For cold hands that can no longer feel.
And, feet burning of fight or flight, I shout into
The nearing brightness of a busy parking lot.
Unashamed, I am glorified by the speaking,
Walking flesh and blood found
In coffee-shop windows and fast food patrons.

I want only the warm bask
Of past-time conversation,
And my familiar apartment,
All one-thousand square feet of it,
And my family, hot coffee, old books, words.
And to keep on breathing.  Just to breathe.


Written for my very own 1st prompt Warning The Stars Saturday Prompts.  I invite everyone to stop by on Saturdays.  Read, partake and share what you come up with.  Or merely serve the muse.  :)

16 comments:

  1. Very well-crafted, intense poem. Love the cemetery picture, though I don't find it creepy at all. More beautiful and inviting. For creepy, you should see some of the old abandoned cemeteries out where I live.

    Anyway, liked the poem, thanks for sharing.

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  2. Oh I hate creepy cemeteries and this sure looks like one...and I feel it in your words....
    'I turn the corner and stumble past them,
    An ocean full of broken stones'

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  3. I LOVE your opening: "Tonight my feet are gold spheres"......what a great hook! I really like "an ocean full of broken stones." Love the closing....."to keep on breathing." Maybe when you pass the cemetery you can think: It is just their bodies left there, unliving. Their souls have gone on to Great Adventures. It is nice to hope so, anyway!

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  4. ahhhh...the ending was a sweet one. I can relate to the feelings of nostalgia and wanting everything that happened ago to return. Very sincere poem.

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  5. just to breathe... it is a bit creepy..but a lot of interesting thoughts mingle here. well done.

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  6. That certainly is a sad unloved cemetery. The dead are good at keeping secrets. This makes it so important to speak up when we are alive. Writers are very good at this!

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  7. An ocean full of broken stones... *shivers* - Like looking at a dolmen and recognizing the only permanence throughout the centuries is impermanence. Beautiful work!

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  8. loved the ending lines. be thankful just for the breathing.
    i like the contrasting imagery of the lonely cemetery and the busy parking lot. a well crafted piece of work. :)

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  9. Wow, this is really reflective, Stacy. Indeed the dead do keep secrets...forever. Kind of frightening to think of the possibility of the heartbeat reappearing and of the cold hands that are not able to feel. As eerie as the poem is, I think in the end its message is that we really need to appreciate the things of life -- the family, coffee, words, etc!

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  10. I liked this poem, Stacy. The last stanza with its list of ordinary everyday things speak to me. This is the things we are indeed most likely to miss wherever we may be.

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  11. Oh, wow. I feel differently about cemetaries, preferring them to busy parking lots and malls--but I felt the truths of tthis poem and especially like the metaphor of a corked bottle which is so unique and new. The mood here is holding me still before I can turn to another poem.

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  12. An ocean full of broken stones,...is a very cool descriptor...
    and the feeling comes on nicely there in the end as well stacy...
    the wanting of the others...and to just keep breathing...

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  13. Some amazing imagery in this Stacy. I think most people are uncomfortable with cemeteries. They represent so much loss.

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  14. I come from a culture that celebrates death equal to life. Born in Mexico and half Aztec, I'm part of the whole, the 'one'(Tao). Cemeteries are like statues, symbols erected to try to tether the loved ones here. This is a good write that speaks to this for me.

    Gracias

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  15. This is a great poem. You draw the reader along with you while still hiding the conclusion. You let me find that myself.

    Well written.

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Thank you for taking the time to comment, it is so appreciated. Your thoughts and critiques are always welcome! I will be by to visit your blog soon!