written by: Kenneth Vincent Walker
Rows and rows of surnamed stones
In the cemetery symmetry of collective bones.
Some need a place to come and mourn
And for sorrowful flowers to adorn.
The soil drenched with tears of those who cried
On these hallowed grounds all sanctified.
Naked in this world we’re born,
And we exit with either pomp or scorn.
When we leave this world, we leave alone with just a
Trace of grace and these engraved headstones.
Now I see and grieve before this prayer I groan,
While others leave for their eternal home.
We chance to hear that resonating voice.
At least we depart here, not by choice.
We leave behind all that we own.
When we leave this world, we leave alone.