Walking through the mountains

Walking through the mountains I happened upon a cemetery;
the unattended crosses and gravestones barely visible
behind the tall pines and eucalyptus swaying in the gentle breeze.

Here I sat, propped up against a large, gray stone.
I closed my eyes and a stillness took me
as the many birds of the Andes sang so sweetly, so joyously,
and dark clouds, heavy with moisture, gathered at the tops
of the surrounding mountains on the other side of the green valley.
Meanwhile a field mouse scurried about,
nibbling on the flowers left by loved ones.

The world around us is exploding with such beauty
and light. If you can spare a minute, please, sit and listen
and do not pity the dead.
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