September 12, 2010
I still remember
that mossy cemetery,
all dark greens
and crumbly headstones.
Beneath our feet
lay ancient bones,
and others scurried away,
shaking off old superstitions
but I could not leave.

As sunlight tickled those the hunched-over trees
and a summer wind smoothed my sweaty hair,
birds call, crickets chirped,
my classmates flirted.
Yet peace radiated
from the spongy Tennessee soil,
sleepy, carefree, wise.

I swear something touched me then,
ancient and soothing -

and as I read the worn inscriptions
for infants and grandfathers,
husbands and soldiers,
I understood.

Even when my lung
have breathed their last
life will still flow on,

and it will still be beautiful.

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