I Talk to Unfamiliar Gravestones
I speak to unfamiliar gravestones
when I visit dead family and friends
I ask them if it’s true
that their replies are echoes in the stale air’s moans?
I ask them how they live
— now– after this life ends
I talk to unfamiliar gravestones
because I don’t know if anyone else does
I try to muster engaging conversations
about loyalty, friendship, and love
I laugh with unfamiliar gravestones
when a joke I share lands right
I listsen for their hallowed howls,
even though I know the quiet stirs the night
I watch shadows grow on unfamiliar gravestones
and take heed when the boneyard rattles
I make my way back to the living
swaying to a symphony of windspun growls and clatters
26 thoughts on "I Talk to Unfamiliar Gravestones"
Leave a Reply
You must be logged in to post a comment.
Beautiful. I love the images of you moving among the gravestones— and especially enjoyed this time with “unfamiliar gravestones / because I don’t know if anyone else does.”
Thank you, Michele! As silly as it sounds, I do stop and speak to gravestones that appear not to have had a visitor for a while. I don’t know that anyone should be or feel alone, even in death.
Not silly at all, H.A. Agree with “I don’t know that anyone should be or feel alone, even in death.”
💜
I thought that part was really beautiful too.
Thanks, Chelsie!
I thought that part really shined through as well.
Thank you!
“and take heed when the boneyard rattles” is such the line and image. Think the couplets and repetition work well.
Thanks, Bill. I always appreciate your kind words and that you read with such openness and care.
“the stale air’s moans,” “boneyard rattles,” and “boneyard rattles”: love the way you evoke the setting. echoes of Keats, Blake, Shelley
Wow! Those are large echoes, indeed. Thank you so much, Gaby.
This is quite a hauntingly beautiful image and sentiment. My family uses cremation so there are no graves.
Thank you, Linda. We have a mix of burials and cremations. Some of the cremation folks’ ashes rest in a columbarium.
Oh yes! There’s nothing quite like walking through a graveyard. I live about a half-mile from the Lexington cemetery. This poem inspires me to explore it again. Good job!
Awesome! Thanks, Linda. I’d love to hear about your next exploration. I run on a local trail with a family plot mere footsteps from the pavement. I have stopped running and read those stones countless times.
Marvelous! Love the empathy and the turn when we recognize that a graveside can give us pause–
Not everyone is friendly, in this life or the next. “I make my way back to the living
swaying to a symphony of windspun growls and clatters”
Really cool place you’ve taken us to. Thank you.
Thank you, Tabitha! I appreciate that you found so much in this little poem. 💜
The form really works
I like the way it saunters. It really does lend it a holiness.
Wonderful work and love the ending.
Thanks, Coleman! I am glad you enjoyed this one.
I sometimes find it easier to talk to strangers than people I know. I really love the concept of this poem. My favorite line is “I watch shadows grow on unfamiliar gravestones
and take heed when the boneyard rattles”
I feel the same way at times. Strangers don’t have/need all the backstory. The conversation just is. Thank you for reading and for highlighting those lines.
This brings me joy:
“I laugh with unfamiliar gravestones
when a joke I share lands right”
Thanks, Bud. Oddly, it’s true. I really do tell jokes to unfamiliar gravestones.
Beautiful.
I like the respect, kindness, and intimacy in your conversation with the “Unfamiliars” shown (I speak, I ask, I listen…)
love:
I laugh with unfamiliar gravestones
when a joke I share lands right
Many thanks, Pam!