Driving by a boneyard <br />in January, I see winter sky <br />naked trees & <br />bare stones, row on row <br />marking time <br />marking lives... <br /> <br />Cold air <br />the breath of graves <br />carries voices of the dead: <br />They cry out in silence, <br />like Hamlet's father's ghost, <br />'Remember me.' <br />yet all ultimately forgotten. <br /> <br />Long after bones have <br />returned to dust & <br />mute stones crumbled by aeons <br />They still utter their voiceless cry, <br />'Remember! ' <br />& no one hears <br />no one cares <br /> <br />& still seasons change <br />sun rises & sets: <br />grasses grown long <br />wave mournfully <br />with winter's breeze <br />obscuring the ruined stones <br /> <br />& only ghosts' ghosts can hear <br />the plaintive cry, <br />'Remember me' silently mouthed <br />by dry dust & scattered molecules <br />for all that lives must die <br />& all mankind <br />of great or humble birth <br />must submit to the catholic <br />& inevitable workings of the earth. <br /> <br />(Copyright 1/25/2006)<br /><br />Hugh Cobb<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/driving-by-the-boneyard/
