Cemetery
The cemetery is outside of the town, located on the hilly side, encircled with a fence. People were dying to get in.
As the town grew, the graveyard became the center of the town.
The tombstones, stating fact – born, died, wife, husband, son, daughter. There is no bio - occupation, deed, awards.
I lay here, six feet under ground, in a sealed coffin, trapped, encased. This is my new residence, a forever place.
My monument acknowledges me. My pillow and blanket border my grave site, occupied with flowers, filled with nectar, attracting bees, keeping me alive above ground,
As time goes on, I am forgotten, no flowers may be found on my grave, no visitors. I am in eternal purgatory.
I am buried in the family plot. Those who went before I was born, just saw the names on the ancestor tree and never met. Some I knew. Some died when their time was up, others met untimely deaths.
I can hear Aunt Sylvia moving around, making sure her “plants” are flourishing.
I can hear Aunt Sally telling jokes, which brings laughter to those around us.
I can hear Uncle Issy yelling, getting rid of his frustration on all around him.
I can hear cousin Howard vowing to give up cigarettes, to the very end.
All the surrounding neighbors are constant, never moving. They are strangers to me.
I can hear them partying at all hours of the night and day. They never sleep.
On and on it goes, I am indeed buried in purgatory.
If I had the hindsight, I would of taken the foresight and donated my body. I would have then been cremated and have my ashes blown to the wind.
Honor Your Father and Mother
You were the seed that was planted, grew within to maturity, and you were born.
You may have been planned or an accident.
You may of be wanted or not.
If wanted, you were a joyful flower, a blessing, but there were no promises in life.
If not wanted, not planned, you paid the price.
No guarantees they will be good parents to one or all the siblings. They may be fair or favor one over the other.
One parent may be frustrated and take out their frustration on the children, verbal, physical, or both.
A parent may be alcoholic. Physical abuse would be high.
May be no money for proper food, clothes, housing, but loving.
Perhaps, a single parent, only interested in their own enjoyment, neglect the children.
If you are one of the unlucky ones, take control of your life. Do not destroy it with drugs, alcohol, bad choices.
You may be one of the lucky ones, with loving parents.
Not all these children started out wanted or loved. Others are given up because they are not wanted or given up for a better life. Hopefully a better life, no guarantees.
Honor your mother and father, but they must also honor you,
Park Bench
It was time to leave my mother teak. As a seedling, I was able to fly on the air currents, like a parachute. I searched for an area of fertile soil and landed.
I took root.
Through the years, I began to grow in width and length, sprouting branches and leaves.
I stood among other trees and just wanted more.
A lumber jack came across the land and favored me. I was cut down, cut into slats, and made into a park bench.
I was placed in a community park, near a tree.
I was position in front of a path. To the right was a playground, to the left, a field where hock, baseball, soccer is played.
I sit and watch as the world goes by.
Lovers would come and sit and talk. As time progresses, they marry and bring the children.
Mothers would come and sit with their little ones in carriages.
As time went on, I watch them play in the playground on swings, see-saws, monkey bars.
Children come and play tag, hide and seek an I would be home base.
Wild flowers grew around me and children may pick them and give to their mothers.
As the children grow, they play in the playground, then advance to the field to play T ball, baseball, soccer, football.
I watch people jog, amble by, slowly walk by, just taking in the view.
I was a seat for those who feed the birds, read a newspaper, books, or just relaxed and watched the world go by.
An old couple would sit and hold hands and remember the days of their youth when their children were young,
At times I was a home for those without a home, and they slept one me.
I was grateful I was not a Birch, Hickory, Ash or Maple. Then I would have been cut down for firewood.
I would have missed the generation of families, provided a place of rest, a bed for the homeless, and being home base.
I just wanted more.
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