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thoughts. words. action.

(mostly) short poems on life and love

plot 17

September 7, 2016 by Michael Guerin

the august sun warmed my back
as the last row of flowers
were planted in dirt
dark as night

when the foreman
asked me to go
to the chapel and retrieve
the casket inside for burial

and place it near
a white marble angel
and as i headed that way
wondered how it was possible

for me to bring a body
from there to here
all by myself
forgetting about the new section

reserved for babies
and as the cool chapel air
slapped my face and eyes
adjusted to the shade

spied a small white box
near the altar
no bigger than one for shoes
you buy at the mall

and as my heart pounded
i reverently raised it up
lighter than a breath
and carried the tiny package

to plot seventeen
and laid the box down
on green green grass
then dug a hole

appropriately sized
and planted one final sprout
that day just moments
before grief-stricken parents

headed my way
hand in hand to stand
beside the neatly seeded
patch of ground.

About Michael Guerin

writer, dreamer, lover, seeker. labels never reach the heart of any matter, but they might be a place to start...

titles available on amazon.com

Flowers for Rumi
beneath the waves
Found & Lost
Nature Speaks
still life
between black & white
mind & machine
world thru a window
Ghosts, Flames & Ashes

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