St. George’s Cemetery, Bermuda
Near white sand beach,
inside the old church yard,
I stand watchful guard over
earthly body of departed child;
another angel, in human form,
who visited briefly here to be
caught in a rapid blue riptide.
I can only offer marble blooms
and silent stony vigilance.
Come visit the small grave
and cry on my empty arm,
broken from reaching; touch
my clipped wing, fractured
by gathered years of sorrow.
But even as heaven’s stars
gaze, I know the sweet spirit
has taken flight, like red scent
of hibiscus on ocean breeze.
Link to dVerse Poets Pub where Lillian is hosting a “chiseled conversation”…the photograph above is hers!
a poem in my pocket 
Jun 19, 2016 @ 21:09:46
Lovely …
Jun 17, 2016 @ 15:08:38
Oh, man. This aches, and aches DEEP:
“broken from reaching”
I am so deeply, deeply touched by this line. Goodness. Sometimes, aren’t we all just that?
Jun 17, 2016 @ 17:07:22
Yes, helplessly reaching…
Jun 17, 2016 @ 10:54:00
That is so beautiful Lynn…. Diane
Jun 17, 2016 @ 11:47:27
Thanks, Diane!
Jun 17, 2016 @ 09:41:08
Absolutely stunning.
“I can only offer marble blooms
and silent stony vigilance.”
This stood out to me but every line speaks so gently and eloquently of loss, protection and spirit.
Jun 17, 2016 @ 10:34:18
I appreciate your comment, Mish.
Jun 16, 2016 @ 18:45:58
AngELs of Ocean
hOld Statues of now forlorn..
Life as Ocean wHolE noW..
never endinG Now..oh yes..
yes! YeS now Star
duSt FaLLs SpRings
UniVerSe MoRe Ocean
wHole.. and sPeakinG
oF Verse hELLo Lynn.. been
a while since i’Ve seen you
at the end.. Oh Lord.. thE
E-Verse continues
to grow
and
i do
SpRead
more seeds
oF ThiS noW..
anyWay.. happy
16th of June..
wHere eVerY
day IS A FEast
and HarVest sAme..
wHerE AngEL WinGs
arE Real and hUmans FlY
iN liFe oF liGht hELd aBove.. so
beLow.. inSide.. ouTside.. All A’round
As and iN God ISREAL.. as wE as uS FReED..:)
Jun 16, 2016 @ 19:39:52
Hi Fred! Yes, I do believe God is REAL and we can be FREED!! Thanks for stopping by 😄
Jun 16, 2016 @ 19:54:08
SMiLes aGain..:)!!
Jun 16, 2016 @ 16:29:40
This is an amazing comforting voice Lynn and you have captured her voice very well. This part is my favorite:
I can only offer marble blooms
and silent stony vigilance.
Jun 16, 2016 @ 18:13:28
I appreciate your kind comments, Grace…thanks!
Jun 16, 2016 @ 14:51:13
This is so sorrowful yet filled with compassion.. the broken arm and broken wing is so tender and lovely…
Jun 16, 2016 @ 13:28:21
Very lovely. I like to think of her sacrificing herself to comfort others. A loving Angel.
Jun 16, 2016 @ 14:56:41
Yes, that’s the image I thought of too.
Jun 16, 2016 @ 10:11:06
“Come visit the small grave
and cry on my empty arm,
broken from reaching; touch
my clipped wing, fractured
by gathered years of sorrow…..”every word is so moving and tends to give shelter to the bereaved heart…beautifully penned…
Jun 16, 2016 @ 08:08:22
I know the sweet spirit
has taken flight, like red scent
of hibiscus on ocean breeze.
Gorgeous, gorgeous, gorgeous write ❤ ❤
Jun 16, 2016 @ 09:55:05
Thank you, Sanaa! So glad you like it.
Jun 16, 2016 @ 07:46:34
“I can only offer marble blooms” I think that captures how I feel when offering condolences too. I can give words and a shoulder to cry on, but can really do so little to assuage someone’s grief. ..and yet I know that the hug of friendship is still a vital part of the healing process.
Jun 16, 2016 @ 09:53:09
So true…well said, Bryan.
Jun 16, 2016 @ 06:56:51
A well-sculpted poem to express this sad and broken visage. You have given back its dignity and ability to offer its comfort in spite of its own pain! Nicely done, Lynn!
Jun 16, 2016 @ 09:52:10
Thank you for this thoughtful comment, Walt.
Jun 16, 2016 @ 04:50:44
I agree with Lillian. This is truly a beautiful piece. Your voice speaks that of the angel. 🙂
Jun 16, 2016 @ 04:32:12
Oh Lynn, this is beautiful!!! I’m so glad you used this photo — no one else has and I was so touched when I saw her while staying our two months this past winter in Bermuda. We took long walks/hikes every day and this cemetery was about 15 to 20 minutes away — on a hill with the waters quite near — just as you’ve described it. Whenever we walked near there, I always went to visit “the angel.” I thought her so poignant. You might want to know, she stands vigilant over a very small grave – a child who died from cholera. But your words here — her empty arm broken from reaching, clipped wing, fractured by years of sorrow — oh this is just so so wonderful. Your voice breathes life into her. Two years now we’ve been going to St. George’s in the winter — and it is in our plans each year coming. I shall never look at this lovely angel in the same way. Your words are beautiful and the ending is exquisite. Thank you thank you for participating and lending your voice to this very special place and my beautiful angel!
Jun 16, 2016 @ 09:49:24
Lillian, your kind comment moves me to tears! Thank YOU for explaining more about this lovely sculpture. It sounds like a special place.
Jun 16, 2016 @ 10:19:20
It is…..as is your poem in its voice. 🙂