when the magnolia bloomsA Poem by m.s.earlyOne day I was at the family cemetery talking to my great-grandmother like she were still here. The magnolia made an umbrella canopy over the stones while the breeze came up from the west, the rural music of the leaves rustling while the dead slept. I looked up. It was April so the magnolia was blooming, the stones were indifferent to its scent in the breeze, the dead baby of seven months old didn't stir. Why should babies die? At the back of the tree are unmarked rocks, slaves dating back to plantation days. The Sun never shines on their stones. The Sun never rises for them, the Sun never sets for them, but they have the sound of the wind and the scent of magnolia blooming in the spring.
© 2014 m.s.earlyReviews
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20 Reviews Added on February 27, 2014 Last Updated on March 1, 2014 Authorm.s.earlyVAAbout"A poet's work is to name the unnameable, to point at frauds, to take sides, start arguments, shape the world, and stop it going to sleep." -Salman Rushdie more..Writing
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