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Rated: ASR · Poetry · Death · #331556
I climbed cemetery hill to face mortality.

Cemetery Hill

From cemetery hill
I watch the earth rotate
Create gravity
Drag sun from sky.

Gravity tears down
A one-horse textile town.

Their generation’s pride
Raised from fertile earth,
But those of us who followed
Misunderstood its worth.

Discarded husk
Time and weather turn brick to dust.
Weeds sprout in crackled pavement,
Rusted water tower dots the sky.
From end to end, it fits my hand,
So small, so very small,
From up on cemetery hill.

Griffith packed his van
Left home for greener ground,
Trying to escape cemetery hill
Where uselessness abounds.

Gone, the pretense of purpose,
Half-life haunts my past
And future.
So many days spent.
Just what’s a man’s aim
Anyway?

I stretch long legged in mowed grass
Earth’s rotation drags clouds past
The living earth vibrates my back,
Buddhist drone of bees
Buttercups bloom perfectly
I revel in the sensory.
The ladybug knows,
Funny, how I never noticed.

The mossy stone sets crooked
And the willow weeps leaves
Upon the sunken place.

I cock my head, then cross my arms,
I won’t come down from cemetery hill.


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© Copyright 2002 Harlow Flick, Right Fielder (wolfgang at Writing.Com). All rights reserved.
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