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.