Crouched before a tombstone,
she bent her head
and wept into the sweet green blades of grass,
because the dead suddenly seemed
more real to her
than the living.
Decades past,
indifference had mocked
her terror,
plucked out of her grasping fingers
those tenuous ties to family,
casting precious memories to the wind
like so many dead petals.
Family
never noticed.
But a green, tufted knoll cradled in birdsong and epitaphs,
tender confidante amongst the aged stones,
softly received her
first tears.
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