under ground

we stop by the cemetery
to visit
the dead.
a one way conversation.
we pull up and walk to the grave,
flowers in hand.
neither happy
or sad, just curious as to
what this all means.
all these stones
leaning in the weather,
the grass cut,
the flowers and flags,
the angels
the statues, the marble.
what's going on here,
what's below
the ground, no one that i
know.
we stand there, we say a prayer,
not just for the dead,
the dearly departed,
but for the many lost souls
that are still
walking around.