The Mission Graveyard

The mission graveyard was peaceful and calm.

Sporadic gravestones and crosses marked

The final resting places of some

Who for some reason had embarked

 

On a new journey--a new phase--

A final, unavoidable transition.

Their remains still sleep, I hope undisturbed

By visitors at the sleepy mission.

 

Swaying in the gentle breeze,

The olive trees wistfully cast

Their shadows on the neglected sod

And on the graves that we wandered past.

 

Reading the inscriptions on the gravestones

Brought so many questions to mind:

Who were the people buried here?

Whom did they sadly leave behind?

 

Were they rich or were they poor?

Was their life easy or hard?

Was it pestilence, age, or violence

That brought them here to sleep in this yard?

 

My glance fell upon a simple stone.

I couldn't help but think that maybe

Some people's lives had been torn apart;

Carved in the gravestone was one word: Baby.

 

Oh, Life and Death, you keep us wondering.

No matter how much we people yearn

To second-guess you, you surprise us

And deliver us to the grave or urn.

(9-23-14)