“Whispers of the Past: Discover the Hidden Secrets within Roy Pullam’s ‘White Oak'”
In the winding embrace of memories, we often find ourselves reflecting on the roads we’ve traveled and the lives we’ve touched. This poignant poem takes us on a journey down a country lane to a graveyard, where time is marked not just by headstones, but by the laughter, stories, and relationships that once breathed life into those names etched in stone. Have you ever paused to wonder about the testament of your own story—what echoes might remain long after you’re gone? Through tender reminiscences of family, the weight of nostalgia, and the quest for recognition, the poem invites us to explore the spaces between beginnings and ends, urging us to contemplate our legacies in a rapidly changing world. So, let’s delve into this beautifully crafted piece and unearth the feelings hidden within; after all, every life has a narrative worth remembering. [LEARN MORE](https://www.bestpoetryonline.com/wp-content/uploads/2024/10/Best-Poetry-Online-0020.jpg?fit=1200%2C801&ssl=1)
The country road
Ends at the graveyard
In the shadow
Of a white church
The steeple
Shows
Proof of its age
Peeling skin
Hanging
From the boards
Directly below the cross
Sections of old and new
Burials
Surround the building
Its expanded residency
Greater than Memorial Days
Of my youth
Names I recognize
Neighbors and friends
Reaching their ends
Stones bearing their names
Remind me
Of who they were
I can still hear
Some of their voices
Hear their laughter
As we shared jokes
My father’s grave
Amid the other granite
Heralds
That he came
With the dawn
Of the twentieth century
How he regaled me
With advents
In his time
Cars, planes and space craft
Rushing into his years
Since his birth
The marvelous adventure
With the awe
Never ceasing
As his life
Evolved from horse and buggy
To a modern world
Never jaded
He approached life
With wonder
Advocating
That I never
Close my eyes
To the ever-changing world
How I wonder
What amazement
He would find
In the nearly 40 years
Since his death?
My mother
As always
By his side
Her voice smaller
Accepting her role
As she did
When her father
Took her from the school
She so loved
Hers was to be a wife
To sublimate her ambition
To her husband
To put her 6th grade education
Aside
Folding it as past
As accepting
As the fate
Of the rag doll
She had carried
Earlier in her childhood
She never complained
Accepting her role
With so much
She wanted
Undone
I walked away
Heavy in thought
Aware
That others
Will read my dates
But will they appreciate
What came
In between?
Will anyone care
Enough
To remember my name
To learn my story
To see me as a person
Who lived
Who loved
Who had a part
No matter how small
In the time
Before them?
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