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When I feel weighted down by life
I go to the graveyard
Where our long fathers and mothers quietly rest

In their presence
I can lay down the burdens and petty worries of my days
And allow them to take their place in the grand scheme

Like crisp leaves falling down into the rich, sweet humus
I remember that
I am part of something bigger
And even the hardest edge becomes soft
With time

I place a hand on the dark bark of the yew tree
As she bends over the graves
A wise crone whispering secret wisdoms over those that sleep

And I remember that

Living is hard, but life is sacred
Dying is heartbreaking, but death is blessed

When I feel weighted down by life
I go to the graveyard
Where our long fathers and mothers quietly sleep

And I remember.

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