IT WAS COLD TODAY

Soil like stone,  
 
against the shovels edge.  
 
Crashing waves mist 20 feet from shore.  
 
Me,being the only inhabitant on this island.

Alive anyway.
 
Digging under the gulls,and grey overcast.  
 
Surrounded by decaying wooden crosses.  
 
Underneath each,lie frigid bones  
 
of sinners,and saints.  
 
Their former lives weigh heavy on me,  
 
as the memories of each,overlap in whispering  
 
echos within the walls of my skull.  
 
Tattered sheets of white,conceal the bodies  
 
of the recently dead.  
 
A line of 12,await their burial before me.  
 
I pause to light a smoke,and watch  
 
the chopping water.  
 
To listen for the distant foghorns from ghost ships,  
 
and feel the wind enter the pores on my face.  
 
As I often do,I think of what I was  
 
doing on this day,and time,20 years ago  
 
as a child.  
 
Most likely laughing with my family,  
 
building snow sculptures.  
 
Excited to pick out a Christmas tree with my father.  
 
No matter what it was,I'm sure there were smiles involved.  
 
I'm sure I was happy.
 
I never expected to be here,doing what I am.  
 
A life cluttered with death.  
 
There's an overwhelming loneliness  
 
that clouds you.To be near so many  
 
People so often,who are not really there.  
 
The wind blows a section of one of the sheets away,  
 
exposing the baby blue face of a woman.  
 
Glazed,white eyes,and mouth pressed tightly closed  
 
with rigor mortis.  
 
A message from God,warning me not to ponder  
 
on the past for too long.  
 
"It was cold today" I mumbled to no one.  
 
Or maybe I was talking to her?  
 
For I didn't take my eyes off of her face,  
 
as I began again,digging her new home.