In Sheridan Cemetery
Everywhere I turn
I see life in the graveyard:
Trees flowering, birds,
Lilacs, junipers, and bees,
Gravestones softly whispering.
26 May 2020
I see life in the graveyard:
Trees flowering, birds,
Lilacs, junipers, and bees,
Gravestones softly whispering.
26 May 2020
Memorial Day in Sheridan Cemetery
Prairie fire blazing
Bright red under a deep blue sky
An old crabapple
Watching above those long gone
Into the dark unseen fire.
Wm. P. McKane
24-25 May 2020
Prairie fire blazing
Bright red under a deep blue sky
An old crabapple
Watching above those long gone
Into the dark unseen fire.
Wm. P. McKane
24-25 May 2020
In flight in Sheridan Cemetery
An owl swooped down
And as quickly disappeared
Before and after
Unobserved and barely seen
Or heard in its sudden flight.
21 May 2020
An owl swooped down
And as quickly disappeared
Before and after
Unobserved and barely seen
Or heard in its sudden flight.
21 May 2020
In Memoriam Mutti Elisabeth Weber Steiner
(1839-1910)
Lilacs are budding
Honoring a mother’s grave
Ringed by six children
She bore and tendered in life
And watches over in death.
Your grave bears three stands:
A tall monument with your name,
Absent its crucifix;
A large round iron planter,
A granite block inscribed MOTHER.
You were spared anguish
Of knowing your land of birth
Was ravaged in war--
The Great War to end all wars--
And its subsequent, worse war.
The old gnarled lilac
Breathes hope in a place where death
Appears triumphant:
Death renders death impotent,
Its temporal power spent.
The rugged, aged bark
Reaching twisted from the earth
Into the boundless sky
Protecting an inner life
Budding forth undefeated.
Last year’s dried sheaths clutch
The lilac branches, pointing
Skyward silently;
Pale green buds longing to bloom--
Death and new life together.
In a resting place,
Sheridan’s cemetery,
Death comes to one’s mind--
Lifeless bodies were interred.
Here life swallows death unseen.
You were not buried,
Mutti, but your body was;
Here you’re remembered,
Honored for your mother’s love:
Into love you surrendered.
You’re awaiting me
In a realm unseen, unknown
Yet felt to be near--
Not beneath my grounded feet
Nor floating above my head.
Silently you call
And in stillness I sense you
Stirring up my thoughts
Clothed in peace, drawing nearer,
Outstretched and bidding me, “Komm!”
How do I know you
Whom my eyes have never seen
Nor ears heard your voice?
I know your motherly love,
And honor your outpouring.
To die is to come
To enter into deathless life
Mind rising on wings of love
Into what is always here
Ever presenting itself.
Lilacs will soon bloom
Lavender or pink, fragrance
Of glorious life on earth
Honoring those who blossomed
Into beauty beyond speech.
—Wm. P. McKane
17-19 April 2020
(1839-1910)
Lilacs are budding
Honoring a mother’s grave
Ringed by six children
She bore and tendered in life
And watches over in death.
Your grave bears three stands:
A tall monument with your name,
Absent its crucifix;
A large round iron planter,
A granite block inscribed MOTHER.
You were spared anguish
Of knowing your land of birth
Was ravaged in war--
The Great War to end all wars--
And its subsequent, worse war.
The old gnarled lilac
Breathes hope in a place where death
Appears triumphant:
Death renders death impotent,
Its temporal power spent.
The rugged, aged bark
Reaching twisted from the earth
Into the boundless sky
Protecting an inner life
Budding forth undefeated.
Last year’s dried sheaths clutch
The lilac branches, pointing
Skyward silently;
Pale green buds longing to bloom--
Death and new life together.
In a resting place,
Sheridan’s cemetery,
Death comes to one’s mind--
Lifeless bodies were interred.
Here life swallows death unseen.
You were not buried,
Mutti, but your body was;
Here you’re remembered,
Honored for your mother’s love:
Into love you surrendered.
You’re awaiting me
In a realm unseen, unknown
Yet felt to be near--
Not beneath my grounded feet
Nor floating above my head.
Silently you call
And in stillness I sense you
Stirring up my thoughts
Clothed in peace, drawing nearer,
Outstretched and bidding me, “Komm!”
How do I know you
Whom my eyes have never seen
Nor ears heard your voice?
I know your motherly love,
And honor your outpouring.
To die is to come
To enter into deathless life
Mind rising on wings of love
Into what is always here
Ever presenting itself.
Lilacs will soon bloom
Lavender or pink, fragrance
Of glorious life on earth
Honoring those who blossomed
Into beauty beyond speech.
—Wm. P. McKane
17-19 April 2020