Rain, Eagles, and Brokedown Palace: A Morning at Hollywood Cemetery

This morning, I headed out under cloudy skies for Meandering the Markers, a 90-minute writing and reflection workshop I hosted at Hollywood Cemetery. Designed as a space for creative and contemplative exploration, the session invites participants to tune in—to the stories etched in stone, the quiet around them, and their own inner landscape. 

Even with the steady rain, one dedicated participant showed up, notepad in hand. We moved our chairs beneath the shelter of Palmer Chapel, a beautiful spot overlooking the James River. From there, we could see two bald eagles perched on the large rocks in the middle of the river. I wished for binoculars—my phone’s zoom wasn’t enough to fully capture the moment—but their presence was unmistakable and grounding. 

As we sat with the sound of rain and river, she spoke about music that moves her, the kind of songs that stay with you like old friends. 

After the session, we walked together to find the grave of someone she knew. 

On our way back, we paused in front of a headstone inscribed with the words: 

"Going home, going home 

By the waterside I will rest my bones

Listen to the river sing sweet songs 

to rock my soul."

The lyrics were perfectly suited for the place. What poem was this? I wasn't familiar. 

I looked it up when I got home and smiled—lyrics from Brokedown Palace by the Grateful Dead. It felt like everything had come together in quiet harmony: the eagles, the river, the rain, the music, and memory. 

The poem this morning wasn’t just something we wrote—it was something we witnessed. 

Sometimes, poetry finds us when we least expect it. It rises in the rhythm of conversation, in shared silence, or on the wings of birds sitting by the water. Sometimes, it’s carved in stone, waiting for someone to pause long enough to read it. And sometimes, it’s all of these things at once.