posted on Sep, 27 2016 @ 11:35 AM
Crosses, wreathes, plastic flowers
mark where they perished,
memorials to those who died there.
Tended by those left behind,
days, months and years
testing the mourner's resolve,
provoking the passerby
to think of their own mortality.
how did they die,
what are the clues left behind,
tire marks, bent steel, broken concrete?
We wonder what were they thinking,
what were they doing,
why did this happen,
did they have a premonition,
did their life flash before their eyes?
Did a loved one warn to be careful,
did they know the risk,
were they filled with excitement
or full of dread?
Do loved ones drive by and say a prayer,
does it remind them of their love and loss,
does it bring a tear or a smile to their faces?
Cemeteries are full of stone tablets
recording birth and death.
While the roadside memorials show you where they died,
the places where their lives ended,
where paramedics did their best,
where bystanders stood agasp but could not turn away.
Sorrow builds the memorials
but is is love that maintains them.