Words Fed On Dust Poem by Miroslava Odalovic

There are some words
Fed on the dust
Ash fallen sound
Reaching deep cries
The noise of which hurts
Though thrown away cast
Down to the ground
Undead it’ll rise
In winds and storms
Rain cradle of tears
When no heart warms
Lost forgotten years
The time of their birth
Dark swallowed patches
And the silent dirge
That no music matches
Placed on a hearth
They’ll burn and surge
Like candles broken
Melting in wax
A candle token
Of the soul that aches
Forever and ever abreast
Of an unleashed why of a quest

©Miroslava Odalović