Day of Deliverance

The graveyard's vast, the grass was high. I picked my way amongst the graves and thought, Like these, I'll some day die. I scanned the rows of headstones there - it looked as though no one came near; I'd come to show at least I care. So many stones, the names now gone, anonymous, forgotten, lost... So can it be the soul lives on? I heard a whisper - was it wind? Again, the sound: the voice a whine. 'I need forgiveness, I have sinned.' I turned my head, but was alone. I said aloud, 'Did someone speak?' He spoke again, his voice a moan, 'I am a sinner, pray for me.' I spun around and asked,'Who's there?' 'A killer, standing by the tree.' My hairs were standing up on end, my heart was beating fit to burst. 'I beg of you to pray, my friend.' Alas, I didn't ask his name or even who he'd killed and why (I've often thought that was a shame). I prayed he would at last find peace; and heard no more. I hurried home, and found it strange: I felt release. for Brian's contest