Into the Past on Congress Street
This poem was written by Alicia McKellar after taking a tour of the Eastern Cemetery. Her family generously shared it with us to publish here.
Walking on Congress Street
In Portland, Maine that day
We went in the cemetery’s back door
Silence held us at bay.
The feeling of stillness was
Abundant everywhere
My mind tried to capture the picture
So later I could share.
The dust from the ground gave an
Appearance ever so somber
The markers from long ago, skulls
And willows, were just a reminder
Of different times when all here
Were “alive and kicking”
They were committed to Portland
And keeping things ticking.
Around two naval captains with
Mr. Moody also near
There lie aisles of adventurers
Who held this town so dear.
There were soldiers, farmers,
Fishermen, husbands and wives
Who all came upon happiness as
Well as hardship in their lives.
And when the cemetery was cut
Completely in two
They moved some of the graves
Of Portland’s who’s who.
They were all reburied abruptly
Under route 295
Even the pretty main gate
Did not survive.
The “last shall be first’
Just as the Bible tells us so
The black folks and maybe a few witches
Are now all in the front row.
And when our walk was over and
We stepped beyond the fences
I looked back to Eastern Cemetery and
Ever so gently, peace came to my senses.
Alicia McKellar
August 2008