Kinship, And More
A poem
A poem
No words necessary, nor tears allowed
for there is no connection, just some words on stone.
Yet those words are my words,
stark and cold.
Each phrase, banal and oft repeated,
still shakes my mental slumber
on this crisp graveyard morning.
Echoes of my thoughts, once confined,
now whisper through the silent rows,
mingling with the rustling leaves
and the distant tolling of a bell.
In this moment, I am both present and lost,
a stranger to myself, yet intimately bound
to the name etched in unyielding granite.
Questions, unasked and unanswered,
hang heavy in the autumn air,
as I trace the letters with a trembling finger,
seeking solace in their familiar curves.
The weight of lives lived and lost,
presses upon my shoulders, a burden
I never knew I carried until this day.
In the stillness of the graveyard,
I find a kinship with the unknown,
a bond forged in the shared experience
of love, loss, and the inexorable march of time.
For in this moment, I am not alone,
but part of a mosaic formed by countless tiles,
each one a story waiting to be told.
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