Friday, November 10, 2006

Quiet Whispers

graveyard

On breathless whispers,
Are the calls from ancestors-

To quiet the mourning weeps,
Quiet the shovels in dirt,
Quiet the rattling bones.

We do not miss our memories
Of the living as we pass
Into deep, misty realms.

This translucent dimension,
A passage through time,
Where all wounds are healed.

~ElizaDeath