This place, of quiet mourning
it always makes me cry,
I visit their graves,
alone, two bodies lie.
Across the lines of stone
a couple silently
remove rabbit eaten flowers.
My Sister says hairspray deters them
I guess that’s some comfort in the dark hours.
I thought you wanted to be freer Dad?
A restless soul, at home on the sea
now all I see is decay
in a box, under ground.
I light a candle in the room you died Mum,
and watch the light across Eastern faces
and I think of a culture burning incense
so smoke can reach spiritual places
of ancestors to keep them whole.