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Andrew Kelly
Poems
Mar 2017
Untitled
“Where can I go from your Spirit?
Where can I flee from your presence?”
I can tell you where,
Drive to the church off of the gray gravel road.
There you will be greeted
By dim witted deacons and the dead.
Parades of pink lily slippers
Masquerades this melancholy sensation.
Surrounded by galleries of gravestones
Belonging to both babies and Baby Boomers.
You can visit.
Surrender your problems to the dirt,
The decaying.
They are dead,
Forever.
They cannot hear what you are saying.
A poem about visiting my brother's grave.
#death
#loss
#flowers
#mourning
#freeverse
#graveyard
Written by
Andrew Kelly
23/M/Philadelphia
(23/M/Philadelphia)
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