Return from the Grave
Return from the Grave
A poem by Alan J Winters
Beneath the soil where silence sleeps,
Where roots entwine in secrets deep,
A whisper stirred the midnight loam—
A soul unbound, a call toward home.
The moon, a blade of silver light,
Carved shadows from the breathless night.
The wind held still, the stars withdrew,
As something old began anew.
A hand emerged through moss and stone,
Not seeking vengeance, not alone—
But drawn by love, by vow unkept,
By tears the living still had wept.
No chains of death, no sacred seal
Could bind what time refused to heal.
The heart remembers what it gave—
Even past the cold, the grave.
She rose not ghost, nor ghoul, nor shade,
But memory in mortal braid.
A voice once lost, now softly brave,
Returned to sing what silence gave.
So if you hear a distant song
Where night is deep and dreams are long,
Know some returns are not to save—
But to remind us what we gave.
Post Comments
Poetrysoup is an environment of encouragement and growth so only provide specific positive comments that indicate what you appreciate about the poem. Negative comments will result your account being banned.
Please
Login
to post a comment
Turn off ads, get more exposure for your poetry, and get more features with a
Premium Membership.
