It sat alone. Far in the back of the cemetery. Just an old wooden cross warn by time. An old wooden cross with nothing more than a broken vase gracing its base. An old wooden cross in a long forgotten cemetery hidden in the middle of nowhere.
She wondered about its occupant. Was it an animal? It was a human cemetery, or appeared to be. Had they had a good life? Did a loved one bury them? Or had they grown forgotten and the marker was just a thoughtful gesture by someone who felt all graves should be marked? She then began to wonder about herself.
Was this her fate? Would this be all that was left of her? She had grown tired. More alone than ever before. Some she had pushed away, some needed to go, and some were never there to begin with. She wanted change. She needed change. Alas, the more she searched, the farther lost she became. Was this her future to path? A lonely life with tears no one would see. She prayed daily for it be not, but her hope slowly faded with each passing day.
She took a deep breath and looked to the sky. Praying for time to ensure that there was more to her journey. That her life would not end with what it had become. That she would be more than a nameless grave in a forgotten cemetery with just an old wooden cross marking where she laid.
I had pondered often what to write for these pictures. This cemetery was interesting. This was one of two very makeshift headstones. There were only five graves total. Lost in an old cemetery down some long forgotten road unless you are a hunter. A cemetery long forgotten by time.
It also comes on a day of sadness for many. For me, it was the loss of another musician that I loved. Charlie Daniels, mostly known to non-country folk for The Devil Went Down to Georgia. He was more than that. He had many songs and he was a man of many words that didn’t hold his tongue. Someone I would have loved to have met, but missed my chance…in small part thanks to money (Those are tickets that are not cheap) and then COVID and now his passing. He did not die of COVID, he died of complications from a stroke. He was 83.
He is not a man that will soon be forgotten. His grave will not go nameless.
This post went on a sadder note than I had intended, but it is a sad day. Between deaths, Covid cases, racial debates, political debates, mask debates….it is too much for a lot of us. That is all I will say on the matter. They are all heated topics and we still do not listen. That is a huge part of our problem. We are all guilty, because both sides are so passionate about their stance. It is what drives, but right now-it is also what could destroy us.
I am refusing to fade to deep into the negative, though. I believe that things can get better. At least, I want to believe that things can get better. I hope you are keeping your heads up as best you can as well. Live, laugh, love, and let it ride.
~SMH, Montana Rose Photography~