A Place of Truth

Once in the gloaming
I was driving past
a rural graveyard.

And suddenly I noticed
something unusual
and very strange
in such a simple view
of such a trivial place.

Within lopsided grayish fence
I could observe
between the bare birches
and coarse oaks
a dozen of wooden grayish crosses,
a pair of ravens on the trees,
a shabby skinny lonely dog,
I thought,
awaiting for his loved
but yet lost master
and two transparent shadows,
two soundless blue ghosts –
a slow and peaceful walk
in silence, side by side,
as two old mates
or two good friendly neighbors...

It certainly was something wrong,
and inappropriate
with this dramatic yet so simple scene.

I realized
it would not be so painful sight
if there was a signboard
saying, say:
"The Central
Cemetery of the World"
or was at least a simple ad:
"Great Christmas sale to those
who died in December!"

No single word.
No single sound.
No sign
of proud vanity of men.

I drove by
thoughtful and perplexed
with an unpleasant feeling
of seeing
an unsuitable spectacle,
of being
to an improper place.

I guessed
I passed
a solitary place of truth.

----------------------------
Pavel Nichkov