At My Brother's Grave
Sweat mingels with my tears,
as thunder reverberates above.
Angels with calginous garments,
stand in obscure doorways;
as lightning punctuates the empyrean.
Looking towards the future,
I can only envision the past.
So once again I plant flowers
at my brother's grave.
But who are these flowers really for?
The person long since deceased,
or the ones who remained behind?
Copyright © Sheol Moribund | Year Posted 2009
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