i used to live in this small town
where everybody knew everyone,
i used to walk down this dirt road
just past the field where the river runs,
where there lies this century-old graveyard
& when summer’s glow started going dim,
when the leaves burned gold instead
that’s where i first encountered him.
he was something of an oddity
the likes of which i’d never come across before,
we walked to the edge of the water
talked by where the waves lapped at the shore,
discussed politics & the recent weather
& it took me this long to finally realize,
it wasn’t the reflection of the light
but ghosts mirrored inside his eyes.
see, he was this desperate soul
who spent his time at the cemetery ,
a shameless, bleeding wish-maker
with a closet of skeletons to bury,
he carried a bible under one arm
trying to re-navigate the fates,
of lives that had already entered
hell’s scorched black-iron gates.
there was one grave in particular
to which he gave special mind,
of a love that had passed away
abandoning him all alone behind,
he left her flowers, wrote her letters
her absence a cruel & twisting knife,
but why weren’t there ever flowers
when she was breathing, full of life?
there’s no time machine to go back
so tell me, graveyard preacher,
why didn’t you choose to love her like that
when you were still able to reach her?
couldn’t you feel the distance start to freeze?
couldn’t you feel it begin to move on?
couldn’t you tell that it was over?
that i was already so far gone?
i just came back from the city
to visit this quiet little town,
i walked along the dirt road
walked past the old burying grounds,
i wonder if he’s still haunted,
if ghosts & spirits are all he’ll ever see,
i wonder if he’s still around
& if he ever comes back to the cemetery.