| West Cemetery ~Rajean Gallagher, 2005 If I'm quiet and listen carefully, I will hear whispers of my family. Stories they tell are unrehearsed, communing with me from under the dirt. Violin-playing farmers reck'n due respect. Dying in coal mines,or from the 'flu. All thirteen generations in final repast. Six here, each greater than the last. West of town: wind echoes of family, brush my hair, leave the trees. They beckon me. Spoken breeze-words touch my mouth, verbal play un-restful under six feet of red clay. They call to me from the other side- reminding me to join them when I rest inside. |
| Dedicated to my family. |
| West Cemetery ~Rajean Gallagher, 2005 When I'm quiet, I listen carefully, to the voices of my dead family. The tales they tell are unrehearsed, (They're communing with me from under the dirt.) Violin-playing farmers reck'n due respect. Dying in coal mines,or from the 'flu. Thirteen American generations at their final address- Six generations lie here, each greater than the last. West Cemetery in Athens: wind echoes of family, brush my hair, leave the trees. They beckon me. Their spoken breeze-words touch my mouth, a verbal play-- Their spirits un-restful under six foot of red clay. They call to me from the other side- reminding me to join them when I rest inside. |
| Revised version- looser sonnet/free form? |
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| Angel Sleeps by Rajean Gallagher 2000 pastel on paper from model |
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