Wandered into a cemetery
surrounded by a stone wall
hidden in the deep wood
The cold winter’s wind
calling the shadows and
whispering my name
Air weighted with sadness
as tombs of sorrow beckoned
like a house so empty
I stood alone, waiting
as voices of the lost
washed me in time’s tempest
My hands embraced each soul
as I traced those crumbling stones
placed long ago with care
Overcome with tears
as I read of Martha. loving daughter
a life lived five short years
And her mother, wife of John
who shared the same last day
in another time, another place
Night fell and mockingbirds
resumed their evening song, playing chords
that matched a funeral march
Chilled to the bone and wearied
I sank to my knees beside a family plot, crying
Tell me where hope lives
Awareness that each stone was marked
with that date, February 29, 1704,
came slowly, deliberately
Echoes of war drums rang
through the silence as fear
electrified the hallowed space
The massacre of yesterday
forgotten as time moved on
still hosts ghosts of the innocent
Every once and awhile
the lost invite someone back
to share their story
And so I did
photo: Atlas Obscura
prompts: #MadVerse, #PoeVerse, #everythingturnsgrey
[…] “Deerfield’s Ghosts” […]
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I googled Deerfield 1704…….yes history of all nations show up the inhumanity within leadership…..the common family suffers….I guess there will be and are many more contemporary Deerfields…
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Isn’t it astounding how cruel we can be to each other? I think the important thing to remember is all the innocent lives lost.
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I love this one so much, it really takes my breath away. It is full of sorrow, but equally as full of life. This just may be one of my all time favorite poems. Very cool.
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Wow! Thank you so much!
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Wow. Just…wow. This will stay with me.
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Thank you!
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Your concluding verse is very telling, exactly what is happening to your speaker. What a thing it would be to talk or communicate with these people, experienced through them their lives. Often short and sad you point out in war, the daughter and her mother. I guess sometimes we forget living as long as many of us do, due to modern medicine, technology etc. Is a gift are forbearers didn’t have. Great write!
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Thanks! I had no idea where this was going until it was almost finished. I drove by several small cemeteries today and knew that would fit in to today’s post, but it wasn’t until I hit on the idea of a massacre that it took shape. I recently proofed a book that took place in Lexington and Concord and have been thinking about the history of places ever since. It’s a bit mind boggling if you start to think about everything that came before…
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I agree yes it is.
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