Saturday, April 22, 2006

Painted Vase


Cemetery, City of Louisville, Colorado.

Pouting Angel

Cemetery, City of Lafayette, Colorado.

Spear and Flower


A spear and a flower stand guard duty at a soldier's stone. Cemetery, City of Lafayette, Colorado.

Sun Shadow


Cemetery, City of Louisville, Colorado.

A Very Old Cemetery

I went up to Columbia Cemetery in Boulder (Colorado) after work to shoot some pics. It felt empty and dreary there, for all the sun shone and cheery dandelions proclaimed the return of spring. No one leaves decorations by the gravestones there, the way they do at Louisville and Lafayette cemeteries. At Louisville and Lafayette, the dead are The Dearly Departed, much loved, much respected and much missed. The dead at Columbine Cemetery are The Forgotten.

In all fairness, though, Columbia is a very old cemetery. Who remembers you when you've been dead for 50 years? Who is there to put flowers on your grave when you've been gone a century?

Friday, April 21, 2006

Chrysanthemums


Cemetery, Louisville, Colorado

Helart


Cemetery, Louisville, Colorado

Monday, April 17, 2006

Pinwheel


This cheery pinwheel, whirling in the breeze, celebrates the life of someone's dear departed. Cemetery, City of Lafayette

Thoughts on Persephone

The goddess Kore went down to the underworld and became Persephone. She didn't go of her own free will. Like we mortals are, she was kidnapped. Unlike we mortals, she was released and she returned. Her mother had advocated for her and won her freedom. But no one advocates for mortals. Once we're gone, we're gone, no matter that our mother grieves and beseeches the gods for us.

Friday, April 14, 2006

Father


One little stone, all alone; no 'Mother' stone nearby. Cemetery, City of Lafayette

Branch/Claw


Cemetery, City of Lafayette

Hawk and Sparrow

I went to my dad's last night to help pay bills, as I've done every week without fail (practically) since Mom died five years ago. Dad's 70 now. He enjoys life and people very much. His hair's been white for a while but suddenly last night, he looked as though the years were catching up with him. It was easy for me to imagine being at his funeral the way we'd been at Mom's.

He told me how he saw a hawk catch a sparrow the other day. The hawk perched on his back fence and ripped the sparrow to shreds. It was horrible to watch. I spent the evening thinking about how death stalks each one of us. It lurks right behind. We might die violently or gently, but we are gonna die. Remember that, and let it make each moment sweeter.

Wednesday, April 12, 2006

The Stones at Arlington










Arlington National Cemetery, Washington D.C.

Arlington


Arlington Cemetery, Washington D.C.
PhotoFriday: Organized

Monday, April 10, 2006

Little Angel


Cemetery, City of Lafayette

Landscape


Cemetery, City of Lafayette

Heart Stone


A heart-shaped headstone lies broken. Cemetery, City of Lafayette

Thursday, April 06, 2006

Headstone


BARNARDI DOMENICO, NATO 1855, MORTO 1913
Cemetery, City of Lafayette, Colorado

Wednesday, April 05, 2006

Tuesday, April 04, 2006

Only Two Things

There are two things we have to do in this life:

1) Die
2) Live until then

Monday, April 03, 2006

There is no happy ending

There is only death, dismemberment and the crucifixion of our hearts with the passing of the forms that we have loved.
Joseph Campbell, Hero with a Thousand Faces

Children Play






Cemetery, City of Lafayette, Colorado

Sunday, April 02, 2006

The Death of Pheasants

Boiled up three pheasants last night with the goal of making pheasant with dumplings. David's friend Todd bagged a whole bunch of them on a hunting trip and now we get the fruits of his labors, such as they are. As I cleaned them in the sink I thought about their deaths. It must have been pretty scary for them in that field that day, with all the yelling and tromping and gunshots.

The shot drives their feathers into their flesh, pokes their bodies full of little holes and breaks their bones. One of the pheasant was shot at pretty close range. Its body was a mess -- not much left of the breast on the left side. This is what it means to be shot to hell, I guess.

The chicken we buy in the store is so so clean. We even buy it deboned now, which removes us yet another step from the fact that this was a living creature. It's more obvious what you are eating when you have to pick the shot out, break its leg joint with your hands to get the claw off because the joint is too tough to cut through, and remove bits of lung tissue and heart.

Life feeds on life, says Joseph Campbell. It's one of the mysteries of this life. I live because it died. Thank you, pheasant, for what you have given me.

Cemetery, City of Lafayette, Colorado

Saturday, April 01, 2006

Death is My Lover

Death is my lover. He wants me deeply, intensely. He loves the way I move, the way I gesture when I speak, the way I tilt my head. He can't wait to get me alone.

He comes to me at night. He whispers love words in my ear and my mind goes swirling away into dark emptiness, a pale mist dissipating in the boundless unending abyss.

Death touches me as I lie in bed, so tenderly and so gently that I can hardly feel him. But my body turns to hard dry clay and bit-by-bit in flakes and shards I crumble away.

He sits beside me in the garden. The sun is black, the roses withered, the insects tiny buzzing skeletons. Eternity weighs upon me then. It is so heavy I can't move, so loud I cannot hear.

My husband doesn't know I have another lover, a lover who is faithful and infinitely patient. Death waits for the day that I love him back, for the day when, in his arms, I forget all the other things I love.

Death Card: Rider-Waite Tarot