Poetry by Randal A. Burd, Jr.
The grass has overgrown the weathered stone
since they first placed his body in the ground,
and visitors no longer come around–
with hopes they’ll not, in turn, face death alone.
Did Life, for him, contrast this sorry end?
You’d never know by glancing at the name.
In fact, all resting places look the same–
a fate we’ll meet but never comprehend.
Once fragile flesh and memories decay,
the brush grows thick, and ivy starts to climb.
The lichen takes identities with time.
Precipitation wears the stone away.
Few living souls know whose remains are there;
Not even their descendants really care.
About the Poet
Randal A. Burd, Jr. is a married father of two and an educator working with both at-risk youth who live in a residential treatment facility and adults returning to school to get their high school equivalency diploma in rural Missouri. Randal’s poems have recently been featured by Your Daily Poem, Nine Muses Poetry, Verse-Virtual, Writer’s Cafe Magazine, and Poetry Breakfast among other publications.
Wow! Congratulations on such a beautiful sonnet! Nothing sounds forced. What a talent you have!
Randal, you’ve summed up death in such a beautiful rhyme scheme, somehow helping us to make sense of it all.
This is so sad. Great writing, but so sad. The past always fascinates me though. It’s the archaeologist in me!