The Graveyard

January 11, 2012
Naught but darkness pervades the vision as the sun sets. Bats screech at the beginning of their reign. Headstones stretch out of the ground as leafless gray trees spread their wide arms towards the sky. The ghost-like giants open their hands over the headstones, as if protecting them.
Within the earth lie stinking, rotting corpses that wish only peace. Tiny, almost soundless squeaks of mice ring out as they stop, sniff the air and then scurry on, scavenging for crumbs. Many humans saunter through this hallowed ground in the light, but in the night, it belongs to creatures.
Occasionally, an angel, frozen in its place, may jump out at any being passing through. The long fingers of the trees tug at trespassers, prodding, urging them to turn back. Suddenly, the marble grave markers dissipate, revealing a dark shadow. As the clouds dissolve with help from the wind, the moon shines bright to uncover a statue. The sculpture seems almost distraught and malevolent, but as it comes more into the light, a guardian is seen and all is at peace. Just as silent, invisible tears roll down into the darkness forever.

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wild21 said...
May 18, 2014 at 6:32 pm
hey Nice poem.
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