Cemetery

I live across a cemetery.
It’s the first thing my eyes linger on when I open the curtains to the morning light.
It’s the last thing I check before I close my eyes to the stealth of night.

Whenever I tell someone this, their first question is always, “Do you get scared?”
No, I don’t.

I look at the neatly placed stones, each inscribed with a few words,
and wonder about the stories buried beneath them.

The lives they lived,
The people left behind,
The hopes never fulfilled,
The dreams that quietly linger.

Some died happily, content, at peace.
Some were running as fast as they could from death,
but death caught them by surprise.
Others invited it in, with teary eyes and a weary heart.

I wonder what their last words were.
I wonder if they realized none of what they cared about mattered or maybe all of it did.

Sometimes, I listen to the wind from across the street, straining for faint whispers.
Are they telling me, “It’s alright, child. In the end, it will be beautiful.”

Author's Note

I am not a writer or a poet. Sometimes I scribble, and here's another one.

Reviews

[Dreamer]

This is a really powerful poem to me! I have always felt differently about cemeteries and people passing on then others around me. I think that death although it can be sad and such a difficult time, can be something amazing. How beautiful is it that we care for one another enough to have our hearts broken when we lose someone. Losing someone is never easy and that is the beauty of it. We feel pain only because of the immense love we have in our lives. Thank you for sharing!