The Stranger

I wrote this poem after being inspired by a beautiful cross headstone in the church graveyard. I love the art nouveau design, & how the moss & lichen cling to the stone, adding to its character of age. It made me wonder about the person who lies below. It’ll most likely still be there long after I’ve gone, so other generations of our changing world will also never meet the individual, but may also be curious about them & how they lived their life. The other grave caught my eye, as the sun shone directly on it, this morning. However, today is also Holocaust Memorial Day in the UK, so it seems appropriate to share. …………………………………………………………..

You’d question the world we live in today,
You wouldn’t perceive some things people might say.
It’s still the same planet,
But not one you left,
It’s been used, abused, you’d feel so bereft.
Yet, as I gaze here, not knowing your name,
You may stand before me, thinking the same.
We never will stare into each other’s face,
Share the same time, run the same race.
Confined in this garden of rest, and of peace,
Just one last, proud observation dear deceased,
The birds are still singing, they choir at your grave,
They sing of your worth, know all that you gave.

27th January 2019

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