I sleep on their graves, my eyes slumber like
death that echoes through moisture and earth.
They talk to me in mumbles, I touch the ground
and I hear their pains in each weeping word.

I sleep on separate ones for to slumber on one
invites their pain into my mind, I once did slumber
on one to many incidences did envelop my
thoughts, wanting them in silences embrace.

They held on to my being but I learned that one
to many voices can ****** an essence of life.
Draining the need to breath, to settle within
their cold embrace and lie dormant in oblivion.

Some tell me stories of times long past, while others
I sing a lullaby to, so young not knowing why
they slumber in darkness but my words sooth their
worried cries Sshhh... little one slumber so quiet.

They shout sometimes, I ask them to hibernate in
waiting for their time would come when their voices
would rest and afterlife would peacefully greet.
I want to sleep but the voice always want to speak.

I always wonder, could I rest one day in the deep.
Or will I just linger in this place listening to their
thoughts and voices. Will I ever know what they will
eventually feel the earth below or only listen to the deep.