Stones on your grave, little sister By Emalisa Rose

Stones on your grave, little sister

In sync with the dogwood
trees pinking, somewhat
deflects from the gravity,
graveside.

Gratefully, Winter has long
left the branch as we gather
‘neath blossom and balcony.

Digging his shoes into the
dirt, Uncle Tom dabs his
blue eyes incessantly, yet I
see not a tear or two shed.

Marking your passing, reciting
the prayers in the old mother
tongue, to honor that half of
our heritage -

I place stones on your grave,
little sister, regretting we never
apologized.

When not writing poetry, Emalisa Rose enjoys crafting and hiking. She leads a birding group
through her neighborhood’s trails. She volunteers in animal rescue, tending to cat colonies in
the area. Some of her poems have appeared in Grand Little Things, MadSwirl, Writing in a
Woman’s Voice
and other wonderful places. Her latest collection is “On the whims of the crosscurrents,” published by Red Wolf Editions.

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