In death, all are equal.

No separation in death
the ground swallows each
with equal hunger.
Questions hang like cobwebs
caught in the breeze above the granite
with centuries to answer or ignore.
Silence claims memories now charted
by fading dates and epitaphs
written in whimsy and wisdom.
Lost generations lean to whisper
to community pillars
mingling amid the weeds.
No notice given to money or majesty
all forever cast as peers
in the surety of mortality.

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Comments (2)
  • T G Houle on Nov 20, 2008

    nice, we are all equal in death. well done

  • Inna Tysoe on Nov 20, 2008

    Well-written.

    Inna

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