Cemetary Gates

I am a gate for a cemetery and I have known my place for many years

Beyond me, ancient trees sway in the gentle breeze,

and birds sing a sweet melody that floats in the air;

A symphony for the dead, the wind wailing like a violin.

Down long winding, weaving roads of peace.

I have fallen a long way. I have seen sorrow, tears, and pain

I wanted to reach out but I couldn't

How I would like to believe in tenderness –

Seems so unfair, I want to cry

The face of grief, highlighted by candlelight 

Here they pause graves all too young yet

The sorrow I feel is ever so mature,  

Why must I be subjected to be a forever voyeur to the grotesque complex emotions that sorrow is?

My maker is man, They are not sweet like Mary.

Why do most men harm each other if it only continues the cycle?

I open wide for funerals  cars and i greet Charon

it hurts my heart to see the inconsolable faces staring ahead; I watch until they are out of sight among the trees

I wish I could tell them I will protect their loved one and one day they will be reunited

next to the living, someday all of them will have their names etched where I cannot read them.