Stones lean precariously after years of neglect. Some cracked. Others bedecked by lichen. Tall wild grasses and spindly trees surround antiquity. Tourists hike the nearby road, unaware. Disconnected to what was. But the Earth knows. She periodically sheds tears, some frozen in anguish, others gentle in their falling. Her memory forever graced by those embraced within her folds.
Written for dVerse, the virtual pub for poets where today’s prompt is to write prose poetry. Bar opens at 3 PM Boston time. This is a special place in cyberspace where poems are shared and read. Come join us!
lillian the home poet 
This prose poem is gorgeously descriptive, and I love the photo!
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Thank you, Kim. It was motivated by our tromping round an old burial ground outside St. George’s — for malaria victims. It is off the road of a hike we took….I’d read about it in an “off the beaten path, hikes of Bermuda” type book. Most folks would never see it. There are a number of very old burial grounds in St. Georges, since it was founded/settled in 1612. My photos didn’t do it justice so used this one from public domain. Wrote the poem’s description from my memory and my photos…but then found this photo to use instead. Somehow, I am fascinated by these old cemeteries.
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I love the way that nature shed their tears… just as it should be on a forgotten grave-yard
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Thank you, Bjorn. There are a number of forgotten grave-yards in and around St. George’s Bermuda. I’ve always been fascinated by places like this.
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This was great because it was remolded and not just a poem jammed together I to prose which a few others were. Lovely description and texture. Feels is real.
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Thank you for your thoughtful comment. I’ve loved the short prose poetry of Joy Harjo…and this scene seemed just right for such a post.
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Every once in a while wandering in a forest or ghost town or wilderness, I have happened onto a forgotten, neglected cemetery, where moss, lichen, weeds, & bird droppings endeavor to choke, to mantle, to obliterate the markers & stones of the dead. The photos I have snapped of them are heartbreaking, even though the people who once cared for those departed are also gone, turned to dispassionate dust.
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Your reply, in itself, is a work of prose poetry. 🙂 These kinds of places have always fascinated me…especially when there are old stones that you can still see a bit of the etched words.
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I have seen some old burial grounds, mostly forgotten. Nature weeps for all of them, but those mostly forgotten and covered by forests also get the leaves of trees and lichen or other vegetation.
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Yes, Frank. Like a comforter of nature’s blanket…those leaves and lichen.
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The photo and your words are poignant and touching. Beautiful write. Evocative.
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Thank you so much, Bev. A lovely comment! I appreciate it. 🙂
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I’m nearly always a fan of poets who listen to what the earth is saying, and you did a fine job with doing that here. Thank you.
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So very glad you stopped by and enjoyed. Thank you!
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Wonderful descriptive write of Mother Earth embracing her children.
Neglected graveyards make me sad, yet I guess after several generations those that lie there will cease to be memories…
Kind regards
Anna :o]
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Thank you, Anna. Bermuda (where we were the month of February) has a number of forgotten graveyards — overgrown, in fields. I’ve always been fascinated by these places.
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Loved the short use of your sentences.
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Thank you. Glad you enjoyed.
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“The eharth knows…” So true, and a meaningful poem! Well done.
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Thank you! So glad you enjoyed this one. We always take this hike when staying in St George’s, that passes by this old, off the road, malaria graveyard. There are also old graves (200 years +) behind St Peter’s Church — and a section that is partially walled off from the rest, for slaves and free blacks. These types of places include so much history — they whisper history.
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I love how mother earth sheds tears and embracing them within their folds ~
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Thank you, Grace. I’ve always enjoyed the prose poetry of Joy Harjo which motivated this write. She is a native American and has amazing prose poetry about the land.
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The stones have become just that, moss-covered stones beneath the trees, part of the natural landscape. A quiet, forgotten, but natural fate.
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You’ve worded it well here, Jane. A prose poetry comment! 🙂
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Wow, what a master of picturesque language you are! Love it.
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Oh my. Thank you for the lovely comment. Much appreciated!
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Very lovely. And I love the picture, too. It’s not just graveyards that get taken over by nature. I think it’s probably a good thing that it happens. Humans tend to tread heavily.
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Wise words you’ve written here, Sarah. Glad you enjoyed this one.
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Fantabulous!
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Thanks!
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A magnificent piece, Lillian. There is certainly poetry in your prose!
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Oh my. What a wonderful comment you’ve written here, Walter. Many thanks!
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Photo and words – a perfect match.
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Interesting….you’ve words are so insightful here. I’d written the poem, using photos and remembering the old graveyards on our hikes in and around St. George’s Bermuda (settled in 1612) but after my words were written, my photos just didn’t quite work….had etchings on the stones I’d photographed. One, which is a wonderful photo, has an angel with a wing broken…so I finally found this photo in public domain. So yes — indeed — I was looking for a “perfect match.” 🙂
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Gorgeous!
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Thank you, Rosemary!
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It is so easy to be disconnected to what once was, and what is right in front of us, even. What a lovely description and homage to earth, and life’s connectedness.
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I love this one! The image and words connect.
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These old burial grounds in Bermuda are quite interesting to walk through. Glad you liked this one!
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Thank you — glad you enjoyed. There are many old old burial grounds in Bermuda. So interesting to walk through them — explore, try to read some of the words barely left on the stones.
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