June 19, 2012


I will not wake
the sleeping dead,
when I walk on by,
they will not know I see
their beds so well-made,
the messy rooms
they left behind
now cleaned
by someone else.
They will not feel
the warm sun
rise and set
upon their stones,
read the date
marking time
since they have gone.
Only in the names
cut into my soul,
do I know how
deep they really
are, pulling me
along the path
that brought them here,
they do not
know how far.