The Little Girl Who Laughed in the Graveyard – a poem by Ken Hines

The Little Girl Who Laughed in the Graveyard 
Watering my mother’s freshly seeded grave 
I am alone, I think, 
among the unliving—until those giggles 
electrified the empty air.
Hidden by skeletal trunks 
of crepe myrtle she hopscotched 
among the mounds, 
her laugh 
the sermon I needed to hear.
It said: 
Ignore the crows in the distant pines
and their chorus of complaint.
Marvel at the gall of fescue seeds
bearing possibility without promise.
Testify to the courage of gravestones
telling so little of what they know. 
I, finishing up a son’s final chore, 
was hoping for more somehow.
Yet there is a dark place in the heart 
that whispers Amen.

Ken Hines writes essays and poems on matters he finds puzzling. Some of those pieces found their way into Philosophy NowThe MillionsBarrelhouseMocking Heart Review and AIOTB. He lives in Richmond, Virginia.

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