Thursday, April 30, 2009

In the Kensal Green Cemetary

In the Kensal Green cemetary
I sat down and wept
over the graves both kept and unkept

Fresh earth

Bunches of artificial flowers like bright
Easter eggs drew us in
to read plaques dedicated to loved ones
"gone to sleep"
watched over by statues of the madonna
and little garden gnomes

Song birds

Vines engulf crooked stones,
mausoleums and baby angels
slowly being reclaimed by the earth
obliterating permanence
in an ironic overturning
of why they were there in the first place

Mown grass

Like piano keys the white stones
mark the places of young men
who died a long way from home
believing in something
that had little to do with them

All that life.

- London, April 2009

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