Silent Stroll

Last week I participated in the Iowa Summer Writing Festival and took a class led by Doug Goetsch. We wrote four or five short pieces every day spurred by a variety of prompts. We could write in any genre so some were poems, some fiction, and some memoir. Late in the week I tried my hand at some poetry after we had been given the prompt, "Whistling."

Some people whistle as they walk past graveyards.

I prefer to stay in stealth mode

when walking among the headstones,

leaving undisturbed whatever spirits lie beneath.

Not because I’m afraid of what may arise.

I imagine they are peaceful enough

even resting in ties and dresses;

clothes they were relieved to shed in life.

I walk among hard etched names and dates

searching for peace myself.

A peace that passes all understanding

keeping heart and mind in one true faith

It’s a peace I cannot find outside of box and vault.

So silently I stroll between clusters and rows

of loved ones gathered in death

who knew as well the joys and longings of this life.