Earliest Memory of Death

A boy digs a hole

 

My earliest memory of death
was helping my grandmother
dig her own grave.
 
We lived in a village out in the
plains of fertile soil.
She took me to the cemetery
and asked me to toil.

A strange remembrance,
held in some significance,
because I had
no idea,
no clue.

My latest memory of death,
was seeing my grandmother
in her own grave.

Reviews

[John Alexander McFadyen]

This reads well but needs expanding to help the reader understand the context.

[Audrey Bowers]

Great poem. It has so much detail and feeling in such a short passage. Good job, I have goosebumps.

[CosminDZS]

I'm glad you liked it :)