Haunted Mourning

I am one of those "special" people who likes to wander around in old graveyards, searching for some link to the past, or to be deliciously scared by what being may be lingering. Sometimes it is the only quiet place I can find, except for my own thoughts which scramble restlessly around in my head some days. Included in this post is a photograph I took at Oak Grove Cemetery in my town of Gardiner.  The photograph and poem are both titled Haunted Mourning.

Haunted Mourning

Morning creeps in behind the trees and there she stands.

Alone...still...among those she loved, that have gone on before her.

Head bowed, fingers tightly clutching a wreath of laurels.

Emptiness washes over her in waves of gloomy gray.

Nothing disrupts her stony gaze,

Not even the band of chortling squirrels

playing about her feet.

Is there poetry in sadness,

Wishing to be stricken with tears

When no tears will come?

Only her crushing lonliness is stronger.