sheena blackhall

(18/8/1947 / Aberdeen)

A Picnic in the Cemetery


As you spread your sandwiches out on the table stone,
Why not read the lichened inscription beneath your lunch?

In life I was eaten up by pride, ambition, envy
Rest on my resting place. Be thankful for birdsong.
I have no heart left to be stirred by it

My name is a half way pause between moss and ivy
Not worth a glance or a thought, a second look

Be thankful for today, the warm sun on your head
Resting light as thistledown on the nettles

When you walk off over the grass
Reflect on the breath that enters and leaves your body

It is slight as air, it is nothing, it is everything
It is the most valuable thing you’ll ever possess

Submitted: Monday, February 24, 2014
Edited: Tuesday, February 25, 2014

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