Dying Ashes
I venture through the toiling of days
Crumbling nights
Ever hopeful though chanting septic cries,
Dawn creeps past worn-out
eye receptacles...
and the ashen graves they see
They once burnt benevolently
for scarred hours
But now reflect the red glow
of dying ashes,
Fate has laid them in careful rows
beside the graves.
Seen from above,
they spell forgotten names
and trapped grief.
Each peck of the ghost of birds
wears out a memory in turns,
Each semblance of relief
dies in the glow of symbols...
A grave here
A tear there
Tied together
by a string of clotting blood
and a trail of distant love,
Lined up as emotional tender
for the dying ashes
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