A walk Among The Stones
music of the night
owl and whipporwill
sing a lonesome melody
with the moon in sight
to walk among the stones
the granite perfect shapes
tell of the dates of life and death
now only ashe and bones
ghost of the past tell a lonesome tale
of histories walk on earth
some gone and forgotten, with a cold chiseled date
a breath found and lost to a quiet wail
the yards are now a boundary behind a picket fence
for long gone are the pretty flowers, all are laid to waste
walking past those stepping stones
searching for ancestors evade time and distance
a place where the finish line leads to life again
for the tombstones are landmarks
of names without a face
where dead go on their way to a place they have never been
the moss covered statues give, off an eerie shiver
as we step on graves unmarked but with a rock for a headstone
briars and weeds are but a memorial to the people who rest under fertile soil
for they have all past from life to the life giver.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem