Stones jut out of the pockmarked earth.
The deathly silence is only broken
when the bark of dogs sound off in the distance.
My aching muscles yearn to contract with movement,
But I must stand, smelling the warm morning air.
Relatives are lining up at the site of the recently deceased.
They bow their necks towards the fresh grave.
Their tears water the sprouting grass.
The cemetery is alive with the souls of the departed mingling with those that are soon to be.
Dec 7, 2013
Dec 7, 2013 at 2:23 PM UTC
Stones jut out of the pockmarked earth.
The deathly silence is only broken
when the bark of dogs sound off in the distance.
My aching muscles yearn to contract with movement,
But I must stand, smelling the warm morning air.
Relatives are lining up at the site of the recently deceased.
They bow their necks towards the fresh grave.
Their tears water the sprouting grass.
The cemetery is alive with the souls of the departed mingling with those that are soon to be.
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