She's Looking For Her Grave

there’s a lady dressed in rags and robes she’s slowly skulking by the stones of names and dates and faded mark as mist and crows guide through the dark she’s looking for her grave a single bell helps set her tread a steady toll of calling dread beckoning eyes that chance upon this ageless figure’s soul now gone she’s looking for her grave her mouth it holds a large round stone that forced a blooded fractured bone and shattered teeth and stayed her tongue to threaten not those she’ll rise among she’s looking for her grave a witch they called her when alive who’s words and spells brought all a strife as village folk by stone they saw to end her knives of blackened scorn as each moon she leaves her grave