City of the silent

burial cemetery cross daylight

Magnificent stones, white as snow

Some so enormous, those of the rich

Beautifully designed, piece of art

The letters spelling out the names and dates, perfectly engraved

Presence of fresh roses, some surrounded with small gardens full of lovely flowers.


Some stones so tiny and ugly, left unattended

They’re the ones of the poor, no roses only dog shit

The dog too got tired and one day walked away, eventually understood the master was never coming back.


This city, the city of the dead

The city where our dead relatives live, waiting for the transition into the afterlife

The city where the living relatives come to hold prayers, some just to accompany the dead

With that silence, they must be lonely

No one is talking, only tears

Beautiful memories, reminiscences

Bad memories, tears from the sad past

You call it the cemetery, I call it city of the silent.

2 thoughts on “City of the silent

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