Whose Fallen Angels?

I'm a tough cookie usually, but a sight today near brought me to tears.  On a long walk with The Cheaper Half today, our tracks had us passing through the older part of our cemetery.  Just as we turned to take the shortcut by the railway bridge, a small section of the ground had been taped off.  A few headstones near the back gate entrance had been knocked over, one split in two.  Ornament memorials, flowers in their holders, some grave edgings scattered about, too.  I was shocked and distressed. What made it all the more nefarious was the sight of a child's cuddly toy dangling up a tree and the wind chime from it snapped on the ground.

Unfortunately, the gate on this side of the grounds is a short cut and despite live-in caretakers, no one can be there 24/7 to keep check on the mostly respectable public.  It was sad to see the usually neat and pristine cemetery suffer so.  Many times I enjoyed walking on my own through the beautiful summer lanes, reading the mini stories of tragedy, pride and love. 

I know what happened today was rare. An awful scene that in the silence, spoke for itself, and we knew there was the likelihood of finding nearby empty bottles and cans.  In a perverse kind of way, I was saddened that we didn't come across any, so maybe this attack was just a pit stop on route to some other intended target? Who knows.  But to carry out this destruction, just for fun, without your brains being fully frazzled, is way beyond me, and an insult to the serene in the world beyond them.
 
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