Too Many Crosses
Too many crosses lie on the hill
with the flow of death timeless;
it comes incomparable to birth
with more anxiety than expected anticipation.
The burial ruins accumulate in numbers unattended
with more engraved stone than extinguished flowers;
and in the shadows created by the sun
the ghosts neither rise nor walk.
Don't look for them
their breath is stilled
and their heartbeat silenced
by the crosses on the hill.
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