Past the grave of the baby girl,
past the grave of the beloved mother—
“we loved her,” it says in italic letters—
and past the grave with my birthday on it,
we find a tombstone greened in moss
with its names and dates long since lost.
The grass has nearly reclaimed the stone,
and we sit here together and talk for hours,
joyful expressions of dust as we laugh
and cry and remember just why
it is so damn sweet to be alive, to practice
what it means to love in the face of our impermanence.
All the leaves have left for the year,
but look at what remains—the chance
for sudden, immeasurable bliss
no matter what the season is.
The last few lines are really stunning:
“All the leaves have left for the year,
but look at what remains—the chance
for sudden, immeasurable bliss
no matter what the season is.”
I’m always amazed by what I read. Wonderful!
A birthday in the graveyard. Perfect. And that detail about the one grave you pass with your birthday on it. Reminded me of Graham Nash’s song Winchester Cathedral.
Yes! That song! I loved it in high school and have probably not thought of it since then. It is true walk in the Lone Tree cemetery from the east gate, and my birthday is on the second gravestone on the right. Third year to celebrate there seems somehow so just right.
From: “comment-reply@wordpress.com” Reply-To: Date: Tuesday, November 3, 2015 at 11:39 PM To: Rosemerry Trommer Subject: [A Hundred Falling Veils] Comment: “46th Birthday in Lone Tree Cemetery, Dia de los Muertos”
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