The dead lie askew,
Scattered and strewn about;
Just as in life.
Gravestones refuse to be erect,
Tilting awry as the burdens of age set in.
Just as in life.
Yet, from all around the dead sprouts life.
Mushrooms rising even in winter with renewing rains
And cedars evergreen shading the tangible memories of the departed.
The dead, even in small ways, do not lie unremembered,
Just as in life.
Graveyard walks can be very reflective
When the dead are approached with an open mind,
Just as in life.
Will we find life
In our inner, personal and emotional deaths,
As long as we have life?
Dec. 31, 2006
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