I decided on my poem today after visiting one of my favorite blogs, Life at Willow Manor. Today, Willow wrote about steles, stone markers or slabs, used as monuments in cemeteries. She went on to include some wonderful cemetery pictures and to discuss symbols used in tombstone art. You can visit this blog at:
http://willowmanor.blogspot.com/2009/10/steles.html.
I have always loved visiting cemeteries, especially old ones at small country churches. In days gone by, before the era of interstates and freeways, I would frequently stop in my travels, to take a break wandering among tombstones, wondering about the residents. Many of the graveyards seemed bedraggled and forgotten but, every now and then, a grave would stand out, well tended, with fresh flowers, indicating someone in the vicinity still cared about the deceased buried there.
As a student nurse in New Orleans, I spent many hours at the wonderful cemeteries, "cities of the dead," for which that city is famous. Because of the high water table of the city, burial is made in vaults above the ground. Wealthy families have tombs with crypts that are most ornate, with wrought iron gates and beautiful statuary. More than one family member can be buried in the same vault as long as the previous resident has been deceased for two years. The remains of that person are then placed in a special burial bag which is placed to the back or side of the vault, his or her coffin is destroyed, then there is room for the newly deceased family member.
When I was a new bride, my husband was stationed at Hanscom Field in the Lexington - Concord area of Massachusetts. What a wonderful place that was for old cemeteries, with very famous residents from Revolutionary times. Our group of Air Force wives would venture out, armed with colored wax and sheets of paper to do gravestone rubbings, especially on warm days, then we would lunch at some wonderful historic inn.
A few years ago, for a writing site in which I participate, I penned this poem, "Forgotten Graveyards." Willow's blog, today, remind me of it.
Forgotten Graveyards
I walk and stir the fallen leaves,
And think of those at rest,
Crumbling gravestones all around,
Which make me feel depressed.
Why this toddler's young demise?
A mother's pain so long ago
Sobs on a cold November morn,
As blustery winds would blow.
This one is a soldier's grave,
Did he die in some far war?
Longing for his love back home,
Life ebbing to a cannon's roar.
This man lived a hundred years,
He saw so much of life,
Were they years of happiness,
Or were they filled with strife?
This tree shades a woman,
"Beloved" the tombstone reads,
And yet her resting place displays,
Neglect and countless weeds.
Are they all forgotten?
Once loved but abandoned here,
To wait out all eternity
With no one to shed a tear.
Carmen Henesy
Copyright (c) 2007 by Carmen Henesy All rights reserved.
