Gazlam Motaung Poet Quatrain

Searching for Answers Among the Graves

In the marble orchards,where the stone leaves fade,
I walk a path that grief has made.
The air is cool with a borrowed peace,
A quiet echo of a soul's release.
Each marker stands a cold and rigid plea,
For a name that time has set so free.
I trace the letters of a life unseen.
And seek a whisper where no words have been.

I ask the granite for a simple truth,
About the wasted years of reckless youth,
The silent battles and the broken vows,
The unpicked apples on the dying boughs.
I lean my ear against the ancient ground,
For any rumor of a buried sound,
For any silence deeper than the sod,
Rebuffs my search for answers from my God.

They offer nothing,these eternal guests,
From slumbering bones and hollowed-out chests.
The answers died when breath was drawn and done,
And fled forever from the beating sun.

I came to learn what wisdom they had kept,
But only found the place where they have slept.
The leaving must find meaning in their strife,
For no reply will come from silent life.

So I turn my back upon the silent land,
With empty heart and with an empty hand.
The questions live,but will not find their home,
And I am left to write my own sad poem
The dead hold secrets,but they do not share,
And life's long journey is the only prayer

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