Mausoleum Sanctuary

I’ve created a cemetery

in the midst of this garden

that is my life.

A place of death

where thoughts and dreams

come to their final rest.

Sometimes I watch the sun rise

over the headstones;

oh, and there are many.

Each a place where I have buried

deep under the crosses

failures and losses.

I sit at night in an orchard of graves

and wonder at the nature of all things severed,

listen to the wailing lamentations

of hopes and memories that

turned out to be damnation.


Someday I shall return to the garden,

where life flourishes and grows eternal,

but for now such fecundity is mockery;

I choose to sit in my mausoleum sanctuary.

Companionship with all things forgotten

make my bed and lie down low,

as one of the rotten,

beneath the cross I go.


HG – 2000-2005

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