Those Who'Ve Come To Their Tombs Poem by Thomas Noel Smith

Those Who'Ve Come To Their Tombs



There are those who've come to their tombs
Carrying their hopes
Into the great silence.

There are those who followed roads
Of purity and were assured
Of reaching heaven's door...

I wish I could've been one of them
Who followed the sermons
And the choired anthems

That rose with solemn notes
Into the Sunday skies.
Often my heart called me
To join the crowd
Seated on stern wooden pews...

But my eyes searched for the stillness
Of whispering pines
And my ears heard the sermons
Of blue jays as they sang
Of the wonder of all they saw.

I've walked in cities
Among lost souls
Who huddled in alleys

And I heard their words
Of joy and despair,
Words with no regard for tomorrow

Or eternity…
I heard them speak the words
The clergy never heard.

And when I'm called to my tomb
Choirs may not sing
My name in reverence,

But perhaps the earth
Will know my quest
To touch the sanctity of life.

Thursday, April 3, 2014
Topic(s) of this poem: imagination
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