At old burial grounds relatives pause
    amid rectangles of worn stone.
At emporiums disembodied clerks
    guard racks of imported sameness.

Places of the dead are not unpleasant
    if you make new friends there,
and what an exhilaration it is
    to resurrect the living.

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© 2006 Warren Farr, revised 3/18
Reprinted from Poems by an Artist.