Bereaved

I followed the leaf-strewn path once more

Where it hugged the cemetery wall,

And made my way through the sandstone gap

Where the howl of the wind was stalled,

While snow still covered the sacred ground

And piled by each headstone lay,

Obscured the lettering, so profound

Of a love, now taken away.

And some of the headstones, cracked and worn

Cried out in their pure neglect,

Where were the ones their love had sworn

Who’d never visited yet?

But then a headstone, polished and new

With a name fresh cut in the stone,

I knelt in awe as my wonder grew

That beauty returned to bone.

My tears were frozen on either cheek,

The frost on my forehead lay,

If she could see from her reverie

She’d see that my face was grey,

But nothing stirred on that tiny mound

That covered her form below,

The wind that howled was the only sound

And I thought it told me to go.

‘Get up and leave, you can only grieve

In this garden of dead desire,

Love in this place may only deceive

It’s as dead as the ash in a fire.’

Sadly I placed the poem I wrote

For the girl, in case she’d need it,

Under a rock by the headstone there

In the hopes that Death might read it.

David Lewis Paget

Reviews

[PhoenixDown]

You truly are a squall David. Your words & works, especially this one, carry power; they also carry wisdom, emotion that makes the reader want to bust at their ribs, & paint stories. Your words & your characters, as well as yourself -- are all forceful. But as much of a storm as you are, you are also fresh, human. & your heart shines through our screens.

I cannot thank you enough -- for allowing me to witness your work.

[D Connolly]

Your poetry brings me such joy first thing in the morning :) I love it

[emmajoy]

'.. And made my way through the sandstone gap -- -- Where the howl of the wind was stalled,'

Beautifully, tragically sad... and at this time, for me, so very near truth.

Your forever skills are so rich here, your phrasing and meter so exact... seems be your maybe best ever or perhaps that's because of the theme. What Superb writing,

[Linda Marie Van Tassell]

There is a bleak poignancy to this poem ... a dark veil over the face of a love that is no more. The tears are silent in the rain.