The Road to the Cemetery

To my Mom and Dad

A wintry day,
on the windowsill of the last house
geraniums and cyclamen
blossom as they would in summer.
Beyond the village,
impenetrable fog waits, silently!

In the distance,
the road that begins with two white pillars
and is flanked by cypress trees
appeared to have no end.
Detached and far away the white-stone walls
surrounding the cemetery.

But for me,
approaching the wrought iron gates,
sealed inside my black coffin,
under sprays of flowers and a golden cross,
the road was much to short.
the hour came too soon!

The fog lifts.
Rays of sunshine perch on my expectant grave.
A bell tolls.
Tell me oh Heavenly Lord,
why so heartbreaking
the road that leads to peaceful repose?


The Road to the Cemetery
©2006-M. Della Marina