| Sara ( @ 2007-12-17 15:24:00 |
The Cemetery
Fences around the plots
blocked the way
many were covered with weeds
fallen branches and trash
littered the paths
some gravestones had faded
beyond recognition
After three hours
my legs were scraped
bruised
stung
by overabundant nettles
People
people everywhere
They come in any weather
by buses and trains
from all over
carrying buckets and mops
to clean the graves of their loved ones
nobody else will
The Jewish section looks forlorn
The Jews are gone
perennial nomads
leaving our dead behind
The graves were not numbered
We only had the section number
We combed through the section
the size of a city block
time and again
but found no sign of the Grandpa's grave
After years of neglect
the gravestone had probably
sunk into the ground
like so many others around it
Then the weeds rushed in
American cemeteries
with their immaculate grounds
and clean gravestones
are ideal places
to quietly converse with the departed
to meditate
Easily accessed family history
like dusting off a photo album.
In Russia
I had to tear through
waist-high nettles and spider webs
bitching and moaning
while washing the stones
and weeding the plots
If I found them
The gravestones were screaming at me
calling
crying for attention
I hated to leave them again
But I had to go home
Fences around the plots
blocked the way
many were covered with weeds
fallen branches and trash
littered the paths
some gravestones had faded
beyond recognition
After three hours
my legs were scraped
bruised
stung
by overabundant nettles
People
people everywhere
They come in any weather
by buses and trains
from all over
carrying buckets and mops
to clean the graves of their loved ones
nobody else will
The Jewish section looks forlorn
The Jews are gone
perennial nomads
leaving our dead behind
The graves were not numbered
We only had the section number
We combed through the section
the size of a city block
time and again
but found no sign of the Grandpa's grave
After years of neglect
the gravestone had probably
sunk into the ground
like so many others around it
Then the weeds rushed in
American cemeteries
with their immaculate grounds
and clean gravestones
are ideal places
to quietly converse with the departed
to meditate
Easily accessed family history
like dusting off a photo album.
In Russia
I had to tear through
waist-high nettles and spider webs
bitching and moaning
while washing the stones
and weeding the plots
If I found them
The gravestones were screaming at me
calling
crying for attention
I hated to leave them again
But I had to go home