Hallowed Ground, Housing Spirits,
Stones standing guard over those
with names long since forgotten
while brambles and thorns tear at your sentinel.
Breathless yet awake
Expired yet still aware,
you await a caring soul,
blood or not,
to raise you from the murky shadows
of bygone times.
Goals, Dreams, Emotions,
Families--Loved Ones,
you once had them all
and now--
your reward--
a tumbled pile of rock,
undignified and cold.
Tell me:
Is it your cries I hear
upon the moaning wind?
The one that follows the scattered, skipping leaves?
The one whose breath the trees themselves bow with
such heaviness?
Tell me:
Who do you seek?
Who do you call?
Whose attention is it you so desperately crave?
Which descendants do you chase?
An ache to simply be remembered,
to be lifted from your restless slumber,
where you don't seem to matter at all?
When the blood still stirred in your veins,
did you ever believe you'd be abandoned like so?
The footsteps that stalk behind,
close yet distant,
those that never quite seem to pass by,
is it you lurking,
hoping to coax someone to your
resting place?
Shadows slinking by,
Phantom steps and piercing wails,
not the tricks of Halloween night
but the tormented heartache of a
lost soul, searching for home.
Searching to reclaim their name.
Searching to be remembered.
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