All Nonfiction
- Bullying
- Books
- Academic
- Author Interviews
- Celebrity interviews
- College Articles
- College Essays
- Educator of the Year
- Heroes
- Interviews
- Memoir
- Personal Experience
- Sports
- Travel & Culture
All Opinions
- Bullying
- Current Events / Politics
- Discrimination
- Drugs / Alcohol / Smoking
- Entertainment / Celebrities
- Environment
- Love / Relationships
- Movies / Music / TV
- Pop Culture / Trends
- School / College
- Social Issues / Civics
- Spirituality / Religion
- Sports / Hobbies
All Hot Topics
- Bullying
- Community Service
- Environment
- Health
- Letters to the Editor
- Pride & Prejudice
- What Matters
- Back
Summer Guide
- Program Links
- Program Reviews
- Back
College Guide
- College Links
- College Reviews
- College Essays
- College Articles
- Back
Garden Full of Ashes
I used to follow the hard steps of my father.
In the garden full of Onion sprouts and blooming yellow tulips
My mother once told me “I’ll sleep when I’m dead,”
and
my father once told me to “life is for the living”
And I never understood what they meant until they died.
The bees continued to buzz around my mother’s garden, despite my best attempts to shoo them.
And at my fathers funeral
He was no longer one of the living.
I cried and I hid it
His voice played in my head and
I walked two miles
Into the red, dusty desert
And laid down once I was too far away.
I stretched out until
My hands touched ancient pebbles
As far as they could sprawl.
The sky looked blue.
The clouds looked off—white
But-peace I finally
Felt
And it was
As calm as these desert rocks.
I stood up and started to walk home.
Similar Articles
JOIN THE DISCUSSION
This article has 0 comments.