Walking on Tombstones

  Slowly, strong men carried large slabs of bluestone
Up the path to the house….
Carefully laid heavy rock side by side,
Iridescent colors with ripples widening,
Edges packed in stone dust to hold them
Firmly in the ground when winter comes.
Afterwards, I thought I now walk
Across a path of tombstones,
Rough, irregular stones two inches thick,
Graveyard bluish-grey, keeping the mud away,
Striding across immensity of time,
Now finally at rest under the trees, serene.
Cut from some ancient alluvial plane,
Formed at bottom of shallow seas
Blown by monumental forces,
Where winds and spirits moved….
Water’s rippling action on clay now revealed as
Stone braces feet while I think of death.
Each day I will walk across these silent stones,
Thinking resurrected thoughts,
Renewed by death, secure, unmoving
Across an infinite space, in earth and air,
Heavy bodies not yet carved upon,
Knowing eternity is both under feet and close at hand.


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