when the magnolia blooms

One day 

I was at the family cemetery talking

to my great-grandmother like she were still here.

The magnolia made an umbrella canopy 

over the stones

while the breeze came up 

from the west,

the rural music of the leaves 

rustling 

while the dead 

slept.

I looked up.

It was April

so the magnolia was blooming, 

the stones were indifferent 

to its scent in the breeze,

the dead baby 

of seven months old 

didn't stir.

Why should babies die?

At the back of the tree 

are unmarked rocks,

slaves 

dating back to plantation days.

The Sun never shines on their stones.

The Sun never rises for them,

the Sun never sets for them,

but they have the sound of the wind

and the scent of magnolia

blooming in the spring.

Reviews

[Brittany Zedalis]

This brought to me the image of the cemetery my mom and brother are buried in, and really made me think. Great job.

[m.s.early]

Thank you so much Brittany :)

[DaughterNature]

I like how rooted this is in a sense of real, but still with the unearthly feel of the cemetery. But I have to ask: why doesn't the sun shine on the slaves' stones?

[m.s.early]

They're behind the tree, always in the shade

[Rita L. Sev]

Deep and eerie, you paint a touching scene here, Xavier. On a strange coincidence note: my grandmother is buried in a cemetery called Magnolia Cemetery... and she lost a baby...

[KatDarkness]

Just beautiful :) The wording and imagery are so haunting :)

[DIVYA]

This is utterly beautiful and moving....Unmarked stones on inknown graves...often haunt us, make us wonder so much...who they were and what life had meant to them..

I often wander in our cemetry too...studying old graves..

So, this is one of my favorites...

[Frieda P]

Heavy sigh, I have no words to sufficiently describe how affecting this was................

[Sugar Plum ♥]

So deep and amazing melancholic view...I love this kind of poems with calm feeling of the death and life. Here is contrast, the beautiful white magnolia, and the stones with dead..But magnolia is breathing life, so dead are not in this graves now. I like the questions which arose from your poem, life and death are always connected, the are just stages, but blooming of magnolia is forever...

::n.nour::

[Gypsy Warrior Queen]

graveyards haunt me...just like this poem does...I have read it many times now...It affects me like a missed baby ....I don't know how to explain it yet ....but it's coming...I will return maybe in April.

[m.s.early]

Thank you Queenie. Your thoughts on this one are endeared :)

[Beccy]

This is an incredibly lovely poem. Your words allowed me to see all that you saw, in acute, pin sharp detail.

Such a very good write.

Beccy.

[m.s.early]

Thank you very much Becky. I'm glad it could touch you :)

[Lyn Anderson]

I love your ability to weave whole characters, believable and true, into a short poem. My dear, I had yet to come across errors in your work until today. I am wondering if you wanted to put was instead of were in the great-grandmother line (like she was still here).

[m.s.early]

I appreciate the way you look out for me KL. Of course I did ;-)

[Lyn Anderson]

Just being polite. Wouldn't want to offend thee:)

[m.s.early]

You couldn't kl. Especially since you're usually right. ;-)

[Lyn Anderson]

Thank you. I try not to say it unless I am pretty sure.