A Grave on a Hill

5/30/2022 note: This might still be incomplete. I'm not sure. I like where it is going so far.

You were supposed to have

a grave

on a hill

where wildflowers bloomed in spring

and moonlight lit your name

hand-carved in stone.

Instead, my dear, you have

a grave

in a muddy trench

next to a nameless man you never knew

and a baby who never saw springtime.

That grave on the hill

was supposed to overlook your town,

but now there is no town left to overlook,

just the smoldering hulls of everywhere you used to go

and everywhere you used to live and be alive in.

The places you were alone,

the places you were together,

Your screams were only temporary,

but the laughs you brought out from your soul will haunt the rubble

until the town is washed clean

with the embrace of time.

In that muddy trench—

in your grave—

there are no flowers for you there.

I’m so sorry.

In the future, we will come back

and give you those flowers

and that man a name

and that babe stories about the springtime sun

and about how wonderful it is to shed your coat and stand in its warmth.

I’m so sorry, my dear, but time is not our friend.

We are trying to save others from these muddy trenches,

save those babes so they can experience the beauty of summer and fall

and remember the coldness of winter and that spring will always come

and the wildflowers will always bloom

on the graves

on the hill.