Abney Park Cemetery

Parkland given for recreation, rest
and then, regardless of religion,
final resting.

The park retains its peace.
Though paths have disappeared, the trees remain,
retain their dominance,
sheltering, shunting or shouldering
the dark, deserted and now dishevelled graves.

Falling over each other, these man-monuments,
carve out so many thousand stories
of mothers, fathers, sisters, brothers.
Littered with letters and inscriptions.

Some strut their stuff,
with splendid statements
seeking salvation, status.
Others only seek simplicity,
understated dedications,
fond remembrances.

The undergrowth and overgrowth
hide the buried underground,
suffocate the sculptured words written
for lost or loved ones,
but do not strangle love
which still lies dormant.

This uneven place
today is uneventful.
Bones and bodies rest.
The park returns to nature,
welcomes wildlife,
finds regeneration,
regains the planned for peace.

Birdsong brings a final blessing,
Signalling, softly sounding
a covenant for conservation
which, in the end, is what we will.