The Cemetery Poem by Robert Creffield

After the black coats have been buttoned
And tears have channelled the cheeks
After sympathy cards have been read and forgotten
And flower bouquets left by the feet
After the mourners standing leave nothing but a named seat
And the beach tree blows its leaves like puffs of souls released
The deadly calm of the cemetery returns and summons a council
of the elders to meet.

Now the evening light sends shadows out to roam
And ancient days of yesterday hire reluctant tomorrow on loan
Now the saints and sinners in procession file they creep
And the vilest confronts the holiest for the quietest grave to keep
Now the rows of ancient slabs break rank
And some lean forward while others bend back
Now the purple-eyed carrion crow shows no remorse
And fans its wings in swooping flight to taunt the hidden corpse.
Hear the beating heart of the soul soar, earth to earth we cry no more.

Then yesterdays' triumphs and disasters fall limp and rotten
All their potency decayed and forgotten
Then the dying sun swears blind that memories will fade or hide
All worn down by time's moon and tide
Then those fragments of such concern become trifles and tokens
All the rage that pulsed the veins now spent and not spoken.
Hear the beating heart of the soul soar, ashes to ashes we struggle no more.

See the wind it plays tuneful to itself, quietly it goes, the softest of whispers, amongst the tardy granite heaps with names and dates and lifetime secrets of those that lived and breathed, into the night it weaves its way forever counting the breath of a soul in a solitary day. And all the cares and woes, loved ones, neighbours, friends and foes lie deep, and the wind and the sky and the seasons pass, and the cemetery in the evening is alone at last.
Hear the beating heart of the soul soar, dust to dust we are no more.