Where are all the graves?

Where are all the graves?


I see so many more flowerbeds

than markers of where souls once lay.

The blossoms sprout all about,

so green and full,

and happy again

from the warm tears that nursed them.


What happens after so many years

when the final remains are absorbed?

And nothing remains –

nothing but perhaps an idea that some soul once thought,

one soul once loved.


Who are we left?


At the end of the day,

the last man who stares up upon his stony fate,

what will he say?

How will he see the valleys of graves left behind

and the sweet flower fields blanketing their forgotten beds?


Perhaps he will remark

with the same tear that the first soul poured into the Earth

when he planted his own soul

in that great green Earth

so many years ago,

so many green flowerbeds ago.


5 thoughts on “Where are all the graves?

  1. Thanks! I think it’s a great question, to which there are some great answers. Fantastic thought to ruminate on through poetry.

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