Impermanence

Graves stretch past my eye,
every grave with a face, a photograph of life
as the dead once lived it.
There Cecelia laughs to the camera,
there Guiseppe rides his motorcycle
there the elders stare content,
each taking their days for granted.
Gone. Life like a lightning flash.

Here rest bones of ancestors
but only the ones remembered.
Gone-befores of other ages lost in caves
faceless and forgotten, whose bodies
were real as mine, as yours,
lifting to the wonder of the morning sunshine,
delighted to eat, and drink, and love.
Everywhere the dead
remind me to live,
to live, to live!

©Susa Silvermarie 2019

a Mother’s Son

Hourglass