cemetery guardian

 

img_3561

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!

26 Comments (+add yours?)

  1. 5h2o
    Jun 19, 2016 @ 21:09:46

    Lovely …

    Reply

  2. whimsygizmo
    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?

    Reply

  3. writerwannabe763
    Jun 17, 2016 @ 10:54:00

    That is so beautiful Lynn…. Diane

    Reply

  4. Mish
    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.

    Reply

  5. katiemiafrederick
    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..:)

    Reply

  6. Grace
    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.

    Reply

  7. Björn Rudberg (brudberg)
    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…

    Reply

  8. sarahsouthwest
    Jun 16, 2016 @ 13:28:21

    Very lovely. I like to think of her sacrificing herself to comfort others. A loving Angel.

    Reply

  9. Sumana Roy
    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…

    Reply

  10. Sanaa Rizvi
    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 ❤ ❤

    Reply

  11. Bryan Ens
    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.

    Reply

  12. Walt Wojtanik
    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!

    Reply

  13. maria
    Jun 16, 2016 @ 04:50:44

    I agree with Lillian. This is truly a beautiful piece. Your voice speaks that of the angel. 🙂

    Reply

  14. lillian
    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!

    Reply

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