Pine Mountain Cemetery XVIII The Two Boys
Pine Mountain Cemetery XVIII
The Two Boys
Tragedy does not have an expiration date.
It comes to us in modern times and lived
Close in times forgotten and long gone by.
Mr. Swafford, principal, tried to comfort against
Such guilt felt by the boy who had shot his gun,
Laughing, playing, chasing like a movie hero.
He was only thirteen, that was the last moment
Of his childhood. Haunted, gray he walked
The halls of life mostly left alone to mourn.
And grieve he did, until that day still yet in
His teens he drove his black truck over
The wildest cliff on the highest road.
Accident they called it, official like, families
Suffered enough, sheriff stopped more.
The boys both lie up here not far apart.
One family left for good, never looked back.
The other stayed, tends both graves, hold their
Bitter memories, never live beyond that day.
When I think of them and what was lost a pain
Wells up and sits by me while I feel the waves
Of hurt spread itself far and wide to everyone.
Yesterday’s news, last week’s misery, hundreds
Of years and more. It won’t end because we hurt,
And so we smile and listen to the poets song.
We will fix what we can and wish for the other.
Tomorrow will give us laughter, anger, grief. I
Hope I know which one holds the most relief.
8 thoughts on "Pine Mountain Cemetery XVIII The Two Boys"
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Great first line. Story full of sorrow.
What a way to open a poem! Engaging story with haunting last lines. I look forward to what you will bring us each day.
That opening line is a hammer! These two lines though, bring it home— “Yesterday’s news, last week’s misery, hundreds/
Of years and more. It won’t end because we hurt,”
This one is painful. I love the mercy of the sheriff. We will fix what we can.
This one is painfully wonderful. You definitely are an amazing storyteller.
This poem compresses so much story in it, and the perspective of the narrator blends time in a way that is complex but yet reads so effectively
Wow, that last stanza!
“Accident they called it, official like, families”–the way this line is enjambed holds so much mercy.