Cemetery Days

I have these bouts of cemetery days, when I can't explain why, but I just keep coming back to the dead. Way out in the country, there are very few public spaces you can visit when you like. The active churches are locked during the week, and the disused ones rarely open at all. There are a handful of parks and paths, lookoffs and fishermen's wharves, but I love the dead. Quiet company, good neighbors, they don't mean no one no harm. I'm staring down the stone of Oldham and Eliza Fales, who died at 88 and 91, well over a century ago. Maybe I'll be that age someday, still kicking around a past that never quite catches up to me. It's a fundamental beauty, touching what won't last. Same goes for me, we all just want to be loved while we're living. That's why I'm always pulling the strings of memories, in the hope I won't be forgotten.

 

November 7, 2019

Victoria Vale Cemetery, Nova Scotia

 

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