Potter's Field

In the midst of death we are in life. - Thoreau

somewhere on the edge of nowhere

through a rusted gate on squeaky, bent hinges

empty pockets and threadbare souls

lying 'neath cold, hard, unkempt ground

no names

no etched, granite markers

no tomb as complete strangers lower the boom

an eternity of anonymity

no room for flowers amidst screaming, tormenting weeds

twisted, untrimmed trees and tall, unmown grass

junkies, flunkies and grease monkeys

empty shadows

mere squatters

in a grey, sunless field affectionately call the potter's

Author's Note

"The mass of men lead lives of quiet desperation, and go to the grave with the song still in them." - Thoreau

Reviews

[Fabian G. Franklin]

Death is just another part of life, perhaps less to be feared than the day of one's birth for who knows what lies ahead? A great read.

[Pete]

thanks fgf. "Love not the world, neither the things that are in the world. If any man love the world, the love of the Father is not in him."