Keelby Church Scene
The title is self explanatory – it is written to a tanka syllable structure.
Keelby Church Scene
Glimpsed from my bus. A
pregnant spoil of displaced earth,
piled to fill a grave.
Some flowers too. Not many.
No hearse. No crowd of mourners.
A wreath shows Dad’s passed.
Just “Dad.” Enough. A father.
He had squeezed her hand
and breathed his last breath sighing
for love past – and that ahead.
The girl stood alone
kicking at the grave earth pile
wringing tear-chapped hands.
He was all she ever had
he was not much – just her dad.
I took a picture –
I could not trust that image
just to memory.
As the bus moved past the scene,
it crossed my mind to wonder,
would tomorrow bring
another weeping mourner?
As the graveyard thrives
the shrinking village dies. Then
who digs for the grave-digger?
The bus returning
twilight cools the lonely field.
No sign of the girl.
A brooding separation
hovers, heavy, lowering.
His daughter’s home now
making tea and being brave.
Dad’s remains remain
slowly returning to dust
in the sanctum of his grave.
I think you have captured this sad scene very well, so many lines stand out and add so much to the poem.
It made me think that this girl was the only one there: but at a graveside we are all the only one there regardless of the amount of mourners around.
The going home to a shared loneliness between the home and the empty field was very good. Sue.
it was a single second glimpse as the bus waited for a car to pass – she was all alone but, like you say, we are all there. Rick.
Very effective poem. Nice to see you writing stuff other than performance poems – and doing it very well.
Thanks[ 🙂
A lovely emotive poem,As Sue says, we are always alone in that situation. I have experienced it recently, and I still stand alone at her resting place every Sunday morning.It is not easy, Coming home to an empty house is equally hard. Thank you for sharing, it brought tears to my eyes..Peter.
Thanks, Peter – it’s my ‘curse’ that I have no grave to stand beside and a house to return to that is empty of sweet nostalgia – I wish you well 🙂 Rick.