deepundergroundpoetry.com

The Padlocked Cemetery Gates

The ambulance-chasers turn left at the lights
Blood on the road has satiated their death thirst,
A plastic Christ genuflects to their windscreen.

On my first visit here, men in black and collars
Spoke loudly of thy, thine and hallowed ground,
Child reading cold marble as braille
Turned centuries into magic numbers,
Thumbed turf clods until hands turned green.

Playing Hide & Seek behind coffins,
Rehearse the traverse from womb to tomb;
We spend our lives seeking -
Burying caskets of true feelings.

The saplings are now fully formed,
Their leaves pressed into books
As children lining house walls.

Memories are rain-soaked paint brushes,
Ephemeral tattoos racing under the skin.
In transit, removal vans brake the motion
Separating love, dislocation and fear……

Candle flame washes colour from the room,
Soon to spin skeins of other seasons,
The space between corners and ceiling
Run red for the valleys and pumping hearts
Of our final embrace,
Numb is the grace you gifted,
The unbroken trinkets.

The upper story is closing round a circular tale:
The serpent is eternal, the telling
A doing that never stops.
Quietness is coming, its certainty is sure.

So Sayonara, mewn cariad,
Let the earth be your breath,
No longer imprisoned in my words.

Just the silence of devotion and love.
Written by Strangeways_Rob
Published
Author's Note
ERULGCT 197. ‘I had not thought death had undone so many’. T S Eliot, from The Wasteland. Sister to ‘What Will Survive Of Us Is Love’. First draft as I can’t be arsed editing. Last of the death scribbles.
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