GRAVEYARD DIARY

I really don’t know what I’m looking for at the graveyard. You’re trying to find a sense of peace, eternal rest. It’s never here. Like looking above for the ground. I hear car motors, see animals hopping and leaves swaying together like paper stacks strewn in the wind. I don’t think I have to consider where I fit. What lives will die as such. I know that everyone has been dead before, long ago prior to being birthed to this planet they were dead. The only black and white thing can be life and death, I assume. I’m sitting on a bench that is dedicated to a nine teen year old boy. I know fairness doesn’t exist now, I’d pull my heart to believe that everything is balanced somehow. I see that it still can be balanced, still can be, just not on individual terms. Overall I don’t think balance can exist, everything is unimaginable. I just feel the word “Sorry” rise and fall in my throat with each breath of cool wind. As soon as I sat on this bench I just felt someone stood behind me, tall. She’s calling and saying she found the grave, or didn’t. She was wandering up and down like a lost soul. Right place. Some kid hopped out his Corsa and held a grave in one hand, cupped over the top. Though I look around and overwhelmingly see plastic, weathered flowers. Or still, dried sticks in glass vases. So many benches have fallen over.