Voices of the Dead
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I lay in my bed dreaming fighting with the darkness,
Like a serpent the memories come creeping;
The voices of the dead are so loud.
The past encompasses me like a thick blanket,
I am trying so hard to push the pain away;
The cemetery gate is opening wide.
There is a hush in the rows of tombs and tombs,
The voices of the dead are whispering;
Finally I cannot resist any longer.
I am falling into a dark void and I wander lost,
Tossing and turning, murmuring names in my sleep;
The tomb is wrapped in fog and vines.
Standing before the cold engraved words in stone
I fall to my knees weeping and lamenting;
In the dark purple cloudless night.
______________________________
August 16, 2013
Poetry/Verse/Voices Of The Dead
Copyright Protected, ID 08-499-399-16
All Rights Reserved, 2013, Constance La France
Entered into the Standard contest, Screwed,
sponsor, Rob Carmack, Judged 08/2013
Eighth Place
Copyright © Constance La France | Year Posted 2013
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