There is abhorrence in the landscape
where no flowers grow to hide the truth.
Beside the graves your tired soul keeps post,
unseen to watch us move for hours
towards the new digged hole
as one we loved the most is gone
and we must bury and move on.
The tree trunks stare at us,
their rinds are tortured faces,
disapproving of our thoughtless tred
disturbing as we pass their resting places.
Nothing is said. The rain falls
on the leaves above us and in a million shots
all hope of resurrection is destroyed.
Appalled the grass knows
that it will be crushed under our weight.
This is the date that no one wants to have.
The grave we lay you in, smells of decay
while all of us throw in a handful sand.
A scream comes from the earth,
she takes you back the way she gave you birth.