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Over Yonder Hill – Winona Cemetery – Winona, WA

We deem these graveyards hallowed ground for they hold the bones, the bones of our memories, ever more pastel, of those that went without choice over yonder hill.

These memories are weak, are weak as the nameless babies, who too, lay in that soil without first names. Baby this, baby that, and most cruel, the dates of joy and regret rendered mute for eternity by omission.

Here too, in polished and craved stone, laid heavily on the chests of the dead, futile paperweights against deaths due, are equal measures of arrogance and terror on display.

I was important, I was alive, but why, but why, should endless generations care? They have hemlines to adjust, hair to comb, and fucking to do.

We are all pharaohs and kings, stripped of our crowns and wealth, made utterly equal, a perfect democracy by death’s dictatorship on that final walk over yonder hill.

Copyright 2015 – Katherine Johnson – All Rights Reserved

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