Graveyards love ’em or hate ’em loads of us end up in them! I won’t, it is the flames for me and then scattered on the rhubarb.
Anyway – they can be intriguing, interesting and full of history (and bones). I had a wander through the village yard at the weekend and dug these words up from somewhere.
Slabs
The ground that they share
is common, not exclusive.
Passing by they no longer tread lightly.
Each journey completed here
followed a singular and different pathway,
all brought to this point by others.
At a brief distance
their appearance is varied.
From pristine & neat,
to ragamuffin.
See uncared for (once loved) standing with
falling over (sombre, not drunk), alongside
upright & proper.
All resting with broad eyes closed.
Looking up
toward sun, wistfully watching
star, gazing beyond satellites,
perhaps casting an ambitious glance
in search of a heaven?
Darren J Beaney 
Love ’em – this reminded me of a poem I wrote last year about a wander through a local Welsh chapel graveyard after the strimmer man had paid his yearly visit:
https://slideaways.wordpress.com/2018/08/20/_______________the-strimmer______________/
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