Graveyard Blues by Natasha Trethewey

Graveyard Blues

 

It rained the whole time we were laying her down;

Rained from church to grave when we put her down.

The suck of mud at our feet was a hollow sound.

 

When the preacher called out I held up my hand;

When he called for a witness I raised my hand—

Death stops the body’s work, the soul’s a journeyman.

 

The sun came out when I turned to walk away,

Glared down on me as I turned and walked away—

My back to my mother, leaving her where she lay.

 

The road going home was pocked with holes,

That home-going road’s always full of holes;

Though we slow down, time’s wheel still rolls.

 

            I wander now among names of the dead:

            My mother’s name, stone pillow for my head.