Sonnet For The Eve Of All Hallows (4-4-4-2 Format) Poem by Frank James Ryan Jr...fjr

Stories from th' grave, speak their tales on winds of faith
Methodically, we lay our wreaths and sweet moon orchids
Standing o'er the steel-grey rock, with humble, silent hope
Our whispered prayers somehow reach th' souls we beckon,

Here, Deaths voice cannot be shared with anyone but believers
Yet, all that comes 'before it...may voice choirs of credence
To those holy stories taught to us by men in black and missal
An' faith born of fear as to when 'our' winds of Death will come

Stories from th' grave, shed no light upon th' deep unknown
Still, we follow old traditions, in hopes to find new answers
We'll speak to steel-grey stone, upon......soft, unleveled soil
In hopes all these stories old be blessed with faith renewed

Still, many questions breathe aloud among these sacred fields
Perhaps, beyond th' winds and sky...lie our answers, waiting.



FjR-MMXVI