The Last Breath

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Status: Finished  |  Genre: Poetry  |  House: Booksie Classic
the silence of cemeteries is haunting.

Submitted: January 24, 2007

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Submitted: January 24, 2007

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In graveyard trees that whisper

hanging solemn as the dead.

A root may sometimes

pass through coffin,

chest, and heart, and head.

 

Drawing life from parts decayed

making use of useless rot.

On occasion to

breathe the soul through

pitch soaked veins forgot.

 

Water then is vessel for

taking this soul throughout.

Washing over tired

bodies filled with

memory and doubt.

 

The journey lasts much longer

then the lives of those who grieve.

Passing through trunk and

branch and finally

ending in the leave.

 

Then leave decays like body,

coffin, head, and chest, and heart.

And soul and all fall

to the ground and

slowly break apart.

 

Rain will fall on broken leave

and soak it into the ground.

And trees will whisper

"All is heard in

cemetery sound."


© Copyright 2017 Dino. All rights reserved.

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