do not tell me the dead do not change – they do, for I have seen this myself
they morph and writhe just as the living, and just as seldom rest in peace
we hold them tethered here in loving bonds or bitter chains
we do not let them go beyond
those who lay beneath the ground, burn into smoke and ash
have their bones picked clean by birds
but leave behind no one to grieve, they moved in such silent ways
though they might have done inestimable good
these will be the truly free
Leave a Reply