Saturday, October 1, 2011

Bethel in the Violet Hour

I don't like cemeteries. I know, I know, how weird of me. 

 They don't make me afraid- it's more that they make me uncomfortable, thanks to my vivid imagination. 
I don't like thinking about bodies under my feet.  But I also wonder about who they were, the stories. 
And that is the draw for me.  It's good to force myself to visit them.

I live on the edge of the city, with open spaces a five minute walk from my house, which is nice. 

Last night I went down the road to a familiar cemetery just to see what I'd see.

It's a quiet place, and a particularly sad place.

Whenever I see a cemetery like this I think of Edgar Lee Masters and Spoon River.
And I just found out you can read it all here.

1 comment:

Joe said...

All, all, are sleeping on the hill. That was such a haunting Readers Theater performance.

I find visiting cemetaries a quieting (and sometimes fascinating) experience, particularly with the more majestic grave markers. (In Chile, their main cemetary is full of mini houses/mausoleums.) I often wonder about their stories, what was life like "back in their day", how did they enjoy life, and how did their life contribute to the present?