The Boneyard

​I treaded softly into the grassy boneyard.
Evil spirits dwelled, my soul would not disregard.

​The wind and the rain had eroded the names of the stones.
Six feet beneath the earth lay the person's bones.

I wondered if they could sense me and knew I was there.
Maybe to reach them, I'll drop to my knees and send them a prayer.

Why do we bury the ones we love?
When the spirit of concern would rise above?

Would these deceased ever be united body and soul?
Would spirits be missing, was it the Devil who stole?