sorry, i lost signal

Tue, 01/04/2022 - 00:29 -- layla_

The gate creaks in the early morning and the late evening, though I’ve never seen it 


My town's biggest cemetery is home to the remembered, the forgotten, and the lost

The flags ripple in the wind

Four hanging in the sky, stars and stripes a burst of light from the grey poles which they 

are strung upon

Little ceramic angels sit and watch

Hundreds of eyes upon eyes upon eyes

Delicate robes adorning their bodies from God himself

The lovely, horrifying angels, resting upon the heads of the lucky ones

Who still have families that recall their names

While they are cleaned and swept for leaves and sprayed for insects,

The fire ants that leave blisters on your skin, and the yellowjackets that swarm the tree 


Others will rot away

Sinking into the earth, falling farther and farther away from the Heavens

You deserved better, I believe

Better than cracked stone and rising mounds

How long has it been since someone said that name

When it fell from my lips, trailing off into silence, as though it was never there

As though you were never there

The question poses itself from the writings that are hardly visible anymore, that I had to 

squint to read

Are you still there?

In the dark night, I feel no fear

As I pass by the towering, grand mausoleums

We talk and laugh, wondering who is there

Wondering who would want to be there

It’s none of us

It’s no one we love

Maybe it's because we can't afford the grand forever home

So, being dirt poor, we settle for dirt

Walk with me to face the people we never knew, hardly knew, and loved with all 

our souls

Follow me to where they say their aching souls still linger

Who sat beside me on the bench, tidying the plastic purple flowers

Who stood by me at the fence line, staring into the never-ending holes

Falling, falling, falling.

The children are taught not to walk on graves

For fear or for respect

But you can walk across hers, I told the namesake of our loved one

She wouldn’t mind a bit. 

When it rains, it pours

I hope the children aren’t afraid

Perhaps they play with the toys

They were left planes and trains and cars

Pretend animals and roses and photographs

I’ve never seen them gather dust

Dirt, sure

But kids are prone to make a mess.

I listen, eyes closed, ears open

All that’s left is wind

Wind and the dying, forever dying

Can you hear me anymore

Or are you just like the rest of us

All alone in a great dying world?

It’s seen me in the low points

When my heart was hardly beating

And one day it’ll see me

When my breathing is nothing but wind

Though I wasn’t here from the start

There’s no one left that was

Nor will I be here for the end

I still like to think I know quite a lot about the ancient trees and resting folks

I watched them throw dirt on a woman who hadn’t yet turned twenty-five

I’ve seen the fresh soil on a baby girl, her dolls gathering grime before they’re cleaned 

by caring hands

I saw them pull away the smooth coffin of a boy forever fifteen

I’ve stared at a man who I never met, who, according to those that had, wasn't the friendly type 

For most of you, I raise my eyes towards Heaven

I can offer you nothing but love and respect.

In the early chill of a spring day, are you still there?

In the rain of a January evening, are you still there?

In the dreary afternoon of December, are you still there?

When years pass without a photograph, and people come and go, and houses fall and 

rise from the ground

When the pathways change, and the world is despairing, and everyone is so different, myself included

I do not know if any of us are still here.

Sorry, I must’ve lost signal

It happens every time we pull into the gates

The phone must be too much of an anachronism for the old folks

Are you still there? 







This poem is about: 
My community


Jan Wienen

Thank you. So beautiful and thought provoking. Again Thank you ...



thank you !

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