Here is another throwback from my creative writing class in college.

What's crazy is when I read this, I am shocked; this is one of the few poems I ever wrote that I actually enjoy looking back on.

Despite it being about a cemetery and death, it't not meant to be sad. I hope you see it that way too.

In my home town, there was this old abandoned cemetery that hardly anyone went to. I used to love to go there and walk among the headstones and ponder who those people were, what their lives were, who they loved, who they died for. It always made me a little sad to see how neglected this sacred ground had become. These people who lived and died and were now forgotten. No one visits them anymore, no flowers to adorn their memory.

So when we were asked to write about a place that we like to go that no one else knew about, I wrote about this.

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A simple bench of rock and stone stands

Alone.

In the midst of headstones,

The grass long since buried along with the others.

The dead sleep,

Snaggle toothed grins,

Frozen angels protect them

While they dream.

They all have a story,

Long since forgotten

Of joy and happiness and love and death and despair.

Lives forgotten, pasts buried deep in the ground, closing in on each other.

Who remembers to be awakened,

Sitting on the bench

With the sun painting rocks above their heads?

You’re never Alone.

The wind, rustling the death upon the floor,

Days grow longer, shorter then longer again.

No life is shown in the moss and the stone,

Memories of a life once lived is gone forever.

From iron gates to pearly ones,

Happiness from sorrow,

Relief from pain.

You’re never

Alone.