Sara Fielder

Cemetery Yard

It takes me fifteen minutes walking fast
But not that far
Three rights, a left, then straight ahead
To Cemetery Yard
It sits upon the corner of
Macarthur and Fleet Streets
I go there every Wednesday
To see ghosts I like to meet
The entry is medieval
With it's gated ironwork bars
And there hasn't been a gatekeeper
For many, many years
So I walk right in and I can have
A conversation with
The Captain Robert Cunningham
Or wife of Mister Smith
And who these dried up people were
Back then God only knows
For their tombstones only have their names
And some don't even show
Yet I speak to them like they're alive
Or maybe I am dead?
But either way
I'm speaking to them all within my head
Captain Robert Cunningham
Says 'Thanks for coming here
'Cause back in eighteen sixty five
It was the very year
I was in a bluish uniform when under an attack
I was aiming for confederates
When shot straight in the back'
At which time I find I'm lacking
In appropriate reply
Over all the awe that I now feel
About his sacrifice
'Well Captain, not that much has changed
And I can't really lie
The question is not who we were
But how it was we died'
And the grave of Mrs. Smith
next to him quietly there sits
calling out for my attention,
so attention I do split
And she tells me that one Christmas Eve
while milking in the barn
Two red faced angry Indians
strode in and she was harmed
Though she did whatever she could do
to put up a good fight
They stuck a knife right through her
on that territorial night
'Sara tell me, please, please tell me,
am I right or am I wrong?
Do my children lay beside me,
or did they live on and on? "
But the courage isn't in me
'cause the tombstone dates don't lie
'Mrs. Smith, it isn't if we lived,
but how it was we died'
And a couple hours later
When it was time to go back home
And I felt that they were satisfied
With being left alone
I turned around and looking down
I asked them with a sigh
"You have all of the experience…
How is it one should die? "

Written by Sara Fielder © 2012

Submitted: Wednesday, February 01, 2012
Edited: Saturday, October 18, 2014

Topic(s): Life

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  • Bronze Star - 6,130 Points Chinedu Dike (9/30/2014 10:52:00 PM)

    This is unique and good. I enjoyed the story very much. Thanks for sharing. Please have a look at my poem MANDELA - THE IMMORTAL ICON. (Report) Reply

  • Rookie - 717 Points Thomas A Robinson (9/23/2012 8:10:00 AM)

    I see I am late to comment.So many fine words I see.
    Your words of poetry in this poem
    should live for eternity (Report) Reply

  • Rookie - 112 Points Robert Beck (3/10/2012 8:27:00 AM)

    Sara, I see you have been discovered by an adoring public since last I check in.
    There is no way your talent could be hidden. You are bound for the Stars.
    Keep going! ! ! (Report) Reply

  • Rookie - 88 Points Ruth Walters (2/18/2012 6:33:00 AM)

    I just loved this poem and when I am a ghost, all lost and alone......please come and talk to me :) Ruth thank you so much for reading my little poem and commenting. (Report) Reply

  • Rookie - 10 Points C. Cruz (2/6/2012 10:50:00 PM)

    You seem to have an ease with words and images. Nice work. Clear, concise and moving. (Report) Reply

  • Rookie - 37 Points Jonathan ROBiN (2/4/2012 11:01:00 AM)

    How to die... in googling Henry Newbolt or Vitae Lampada you may discover or rediscover an answer to the questions put :) (Report) Reply

  • Rookie - 37 Points Smack Thompson (2/3/2012 11:41:00 AM)

    This was great i really enjoyed it
    sounds like mrs smith got waht she deserved imo: P
    im going to read more of your stuff for sure. (Report) Reply

  • Rookie - 87 Points Patti Masterman (2/1/2012 10:48:00 PM)

    Sara, I really enjoyed this. It's so creative and I could see the conversations taking place almost like scenes out of a movie..great stuff..I was sad when it ended, it took me out of myself for a while.. (Report) Reply

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