The Girl in the Graveyard

Summary

A girl's introspective journey through a graveyard, reflecting on life and death, is disrupted by the mundane reality of her circumstances.

Abstract

The narrative poem "The Girl in the Graveyard" depicts a girl's meandering thoughts and experiences as she wanders through a graveyard. She is in a rush, trying to catch a bus without money, relying on the kindness of a driver. Her attire, a pair of ragged old shorts and a long braid, suggests a life of simplicity or hardship. The poem juxtaposes the natural world, with its flies, robins, and the setting moon, against the girl's personal struggle to find her place among the living and the dead. The graveyard becomes a metaphor for her own life, where the dead are at rest and the flies, symbolizing the transient nature of life, continue their cycles. The girl's contemplation of mortality and her search for a way "home" are central themes, as she ponders the finality of death and the absence of a path forward in time. The poem concludes with an acknowledgment of the publication and a thank you to the platform that provided the opportunity for the poem to be shared.

Opinions

The poem conveys a sense of urgency and transience in life, as seen through the girl's actions and the imagery of the setting moon and the flies.
There is an underlying theme of kindness and its limits, as the girl hitches rides from a sympathetic bus driver who eventually is no longer there for her.
The graveyard is portrayed as both a literal place and a symbolic space for the girl's reflections on existence, life's purpose, and the nature of death.
The author seems to suggest that life goes on, as represented by the flies, regardless of individual human struggles or the end of life.
The poem implies a critique of societal structures, as the girl's inability to catch the bus or find her way home highlights her isolation and the lack of support systems.
The mention of "Move Me Poetry" indicates the author's appreciation for the platform and the opportunity to share their work, emphasizing the importance of community and support in the creative process.

The Girl in the Graveyard

The flies dapple sidewalks, speedways, freeways, why can’t she walk by the slow swollen graves?

The sun is a timer, the girl is out running, she’s running to catch the bus before it’s too late.

She hitches a ride without any money, the driver takes pity, again and again, she’s in her ragged old shorts.

The girl has her hair in a long braid down her back, the robins are out now, collecting their due.

The moon falls out of the sky at this hour, just like pink candy, the clock has ticked. Where is the girl?

The bats loop down, the moon continues its fall, the flies line the stones, clinging for warmth.

The girl’s on the freeways, she’s studying the graves. Who’s dead? Who’s alive? Aren’t the flies in their graves?

She’s under the earth now looking up and up, what’s it like to be dead? She thinks she may know.

There are no more buses to take her to places, she’s stuck in the graveyard, for the time being, at least.

The moon ticks ever downward as the sky travels upward, the flies come to life; they never did die.

How will she find her way home from the graveyard? Is there a way home? Was there ever a home?

The flies have their freeways, and she used to have hers, but the bus driver’s gone now, the pity is gone.

Here lie the dead, the clocks click frantically, but that doesn’t change the fact that they lie dead in their graves.

There is no freeway at the end of time. Except for the one that the moon might provide. There is no freeway at the end of time.

Maybe there’s one that the moon will illuminate; there’s the skull of a bus. It’s lit-up pink candy as the girl reads a gravestone:

Another bus driver, pitiless, dead. Flies buzz down sidewalks, up speedways, down freeways.

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Thank you for reading my poem—I really appreciate it! And thank your to Move Me Poetry for giving me the opportunity to publish with them; I’m eternally grateful. Please read some of the beautiful poetry they publish here.