That Afternoon At Highgate Cemetery Poem by Amar Agarwala

That Afternoon At Highgate Cemetery



That afternoon at Highgate
When my life had paused awhile,
Old graves and headstones greeted
With their sad and forlorn smile.

Smirched epitaphs stared at me
My call they wanted to know,
Though vowed in pensive silence
With the ones' who lived below.

I tread on cobbled pathways
Between light and dappled shade,
I wound past tombs and gravestones
Down the chapel's colonnade.

Past ivy mantled towers
Then climbed a steep wooded hill,
Saw no interment service
And the cemetery seemed still.

Traceried terraced balustrades
Brick catacombs in iron-cast,
Mausoleums of thinkers,
And graves where mildew amassed.

Grass blades and blossoms beckoned
That I stand and pay regard,
To those who walked the earth once
And lay in the wooded yard.

I turned to look for mourners
Strangely, I found there was none,
Grave-Angels surveying me
For I was the only one.

Could fathom not my habit
Of rummaging life in death,
In a yard eschewing time
That cared not for poisoned breath.

Bees and butterflies floated
Near boughs of many a tree,
Felt they were entertaining
The ones buried there and me.

Knew not cause of my halting
Perhaps weary of the world,
The air balming my sorrows
With fragrant blossoms unfurled.

Wish could decipher lessons
That I could verily keep,
From those who once existed
Now endowed with restful sleep.

I stirred up to crimson skies
For the day had passed away,
Dusk gathering rapidly
My journey a longer way.

When leaving that tranquil yard
Wondered at my lessons there,
My sojourn at the boneyard
That cautioned - to be aware!

For the dead too had once lived
With many an urgent chore,
Yet, when sly life deceived them
They weren't wanted any more.

All doorways barred forever
Adorned with silver and gold,
Save one gray and forsaken
Welcoming them to its fold.

Know men have little option
But accept their hallowed fate,
All vanities ground and churned
Though it be a trifle late.

When I walked out of Highgate
Its echoes haunted my mind -
Mattered not where I journeyed
Knew destiny lay behind.
**************

That Afternoon At Highgate Cemetery
Sunday, April 17, 2016
Topic(s) of this poem: elegy
POET'S NOTES ABOUT THE POEM
AT HIGHGATE CEMETERY

The cemetery is located on both sides of Swain's Lane in Highgate, N6, next to Waterlow Park in London. It was opened in 1839 as a part of a plan to provide seven large cemeteries in and around London, termed at - Magnificent Seven. It spreads over an area of 37 acres and has more than 170,000 graves and is still in use, though the space available is now limited and very expensive.

The cemetery lies over a steep low hill and miles of wooded forest that are full of every variety of trees, shrubberies, plants and wildflowers, most of which have grown without human influence. Besides, the place is a beautiful example of Victorian attitude to death and the same has led to a wealth of Gothic monuments and structures, tombstones and crypts which is nothing short of spectacular. The woods and thick foliage affords space and cover to a variety of birds and small animals, some of which are even rare.

It is now a major tourist draw, with thousands swarming from all over the world to glimpse its rich historical past and bask in an old world ambiance that is so hard to find in the modern world. The cemetery also has an occult past and it is a point of great interest to many. It houses graves of the rich and the famous, the greatest among them being Karl Marx. Then there are a bevy of bureaucrats, thinkers, poets, writers, artists, sportspeople, soldiers, entertainers, magicians and a host of others.

It is one of the most important cemeteries in and around London and is a heritage sight that deserves mention amongst the prominent cemeteries in the world.
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