Saturday, June 13, 2009

Death in May

I wander through pools
Of leafy sunlight
Past columns and rows of anonymous tombstones
Planted by sadness and
Growing from the ground
Like the trees which shade them.

I search for the one I know,
Unblackened by time
With letters as deep
As the chisel had carved.

I carry white yarrow and thorny blue thistle
Which I picked from the roadside
Of his death at sixteen.

His grave still seems new to me,
Yet it is covered with grass.
I stare at the white stone,
Remembering haunting unfairness,
And wonder at his abandoned future
Now bound in dust.

In Memory of Bert

Marsha Salerno

1 comment:

Anonymous said...

It's strange how, as you said, it doesn't seem that long ago. It makes me sad to think of all the promise he had for a bright future. This one touched my memory and my heart. Susan