||[Oct. 23rd, 2009|08:30 am]
A Picture and a Poem
Bowen Street Memorial Park, Wellington, New Zealand.
Winter wind is known for its death,
Stealing away the breath of the cold,
Taking away the dying leaves and flowers.
Only the evergreens dare to show defiance,
Staying green and bright all year.
The winter wind howls in rage and shakes the branches
To no avail.
The evergreens' quiet conspirators are
The lampposts that stand in the graveyard,
Showering the early, claustrophobic night
With yellow, summery, radiant light,
Completely inappropriate for the cemetery in which they stand,
A dying, closed-off cemetery,
Where no more of the dead may enter.
But sometimes, in the winter night,
The long-suffering dead come out and dance,
Their last, weary, hateful spite
Leading them to waltz and spin and foxtrot
Throughout the now-dead graveyard.
These lampposts, children of the first,
Stand out against the winter, silent sentinels,
Silent warriors against the deadly dark.
When summer comes, their weapons are laid down,
For in summer night, while they will glow,
They need not take up arms against the cold and sharp
Wrath of the winter wind,
That steals the breath of the cold,
And takes away dying leaves and flowers
And howls and roars and rages at defiance.
An eternal battle, light and green versus dark and cold,
And every year, they look forward to respite
And to the sleeping dead lying deep
Beneath the grass of a dead grave.