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| Rain on a Grave 2007 | |
| By fortunato364 | ||||||
| 10 April 2008 | ||||||
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Sorry this is a bit unseasonal. I wrote it last year after seeing the teddies and other soft toys on a child's grave. It was just after Christmas and I was moved by the realisation that the family concerned had just spent their first Christmas without their five-year-old daughter/sister. I make no judgement of those who feel the need to decorate graves in this way - if it helps them, well and good. I just thought if the child herself were aware of it, she would rather the bears were warm and snug at home. In late-December limbo, stroll along a rural road, Past terraced homes bedecked with sleighs, trees, Santa Clauses, robins, Their lights extinct, with Christmas come and gone. Pass through the gate to the path that winds Through memorial stone, some greened with time, some new, Each hinting at a hidden story with its dates and ages. Here, at the path’s edge, in the muddy earth, Under inadequate shelter from a bare winter tree, A photo, a name and a date speak of a girl in the ground (Not more than five), and the love of two broken parents And a sister, the rawness of their grief manifest In this crowd of teddy bears and bunnies, soaked by recent rain. And dotted round about, the Christmas wreaths, The snowmen, the fairy lights, placed there for the dead. Who would dare put words into their phantom mouths? I’ll try, for I can’t help but feel they’d say, “Take them home, take them all away, and think, If you should die and find yourself in spirit, what would you do? Sleep here, encased in earth and rotting wood? Float among cold stones and mud on windy hills? Or fly to where you some time lived, and loved? Our bones are in the ground but not our selves. Be comforted, for we are home with you.”
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