The Farmer Among the Tombs
by Wendell Berry
I am oppressed by all the room taken up by the dead,
their headstones standing shoulder to shoulder, the bones imprisoned under them.
Plow up the graveyards! Haul off the monuments! Pry open the vaults and the coffins
so the dead may nourish their graves
and go free, their acres traversed all summer
by crop rows and cattle and foraging bees.
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