Cemetery Soundtrack
A Poem
foggy mornings—spent hidden within
the frayed, and dewy arms of weeping ivy—
laced through my pale-limbed body,
dangling—taut—amongst the moss—
just enough life left within my chest
to hear the wailing cemetery soundtrack.
spectrals dance atop fallen leaves, and
beneath the dying light of the searing sun—
their incorporeal bodies swaying with rapture—
beckoning home the dead, and dying, to
their welcoming—ethereal—rhythm.
i have sat—suspended—here alone
for so long—lost in the music of lost souls—
that i never acknowledged—never noticed—
my own spirit slip away from my own
lifeless hands—smudged with grief.
the girl that lived—before she was touched,
and stained by the voided blackness of loss—
bony fingers cutting into her pink flesh—
exists no longer—buried beneath the soil—
and i am all that remains—the empty shell
strung up—lost—within the aching trees.
a quiet whisper—a phantom of thoughts:
i’m still here,
here,
here.
ferns climb, and tangle their way up—
twining around my pallid thighs—
unfurling against my still—silent—tongue.
darkness consumes my milky-eyed gaze—
listless—stuck—in the hollow inbetween—
carried, and lulled to restless sleep by the
constant wailing of the cemetery soundtrack.
Three years ago I lost someone who meant the world to me. Their passing was the first time I ever experienced death first hand. I had no idea how I was going to cope with the absolute devastation of it. And, to be truthful, I don’t believe I have—completely—dealt with it even now, years later.
This poem is a way to try to quell, and soothe those sharp, and broken pieces of me that I still have yet to mend. I still mourn for this person everyday, and I always will, but I also mourn for the part of myself that died along with them that day. Which, I believe, is something that many people forget to do for themselves when they’re experiencing grief. They forget that, although they are still alive, death has touched them, and they will be forever changed.
I am still reconciling with the truth that I will never be the same woman I was three years ago, and I am slowly learning to feel comfortable with that.
Xandra Winters ©️ 2021
