Stirring
it seems the ground is stirring
With those who have been long forgotten
By those who are slowly rotting
The blackened sky silent
in mourning for those lost
The crescent moon somber
as it shines down upon the forsaken
Not a sound, only the stirring
The constant movement, the restlessness
No creaking limbs from barren branches
No mellifluous whispers from the wind
Nothing to mask the stirring
That horrid dreaded stirring
A cold blanket shrouds the grounds
Trying to quell those who are abandoned
Trying to silence them
Trying to lay them to rest
But it is a distasteful embrace
A cold and unpleasant embrace
Tomb to tomb
Grave to grave
Each so similar, yet so different in their ways
A different epitaph
A different life story
But it all ends the same way
With a fleeting thought and a relinquishing sigh
Death gives them a subtle kiss
Before they could ever say goodbye
The air has a bitter taste
That of sorrow and tears
Of those who were once remembered
Of the ones that stir
But as death can never be avoided
And time waits for no man
Slowly, the tear stains on the markers faded
And those that stir are left in waiting
A solemn and grimly sight it is
To see what awaits us all
A dark descent into hollow ground
Where we shall turn from something to nothing
It is a fate that is inevitable
a destiny that is unavoidable
To become the stirring that lies beneath
Where we shall, as well, wait restlessly
But there is something that has been unnoticed
An aspect that has been overlooked
The sweetness
There is something sweet in the air
A light-hearted scent obtruding the trepidation
A superfluous aroma cloaking the anguish
What is that wondrous scent?
What is that which makes the dead stir less?
But a vibrant arrangement
A beautiful bouquet
Of exquisite pink carnations
And lovely blue forget-me-nots
The flowers seem to be smiling
Wistfully smiling
Warming that which is cold
And lifting up spirits that were once so low
In full bloom
they seem to be singing
Singing a soft melody of tranquility
Comforting those that stir below
With a reminder that they are not alone
A reminder that we should all heed
That we will never be forgotten
So long as there are flowers for headstones
We shall never be utterly alone.