There is a bright silence
in the midnight hours,
behind a veiled realm are
spirits, do they hear the
cries of those earthly souls
in pain.
Flowing through my veins
are the memories of a heart
stilled, a beautiful depression
dweller, cold, weak, no thought
of mortality; no divine oracle.
Gone from sight, now a spirit
dweller beyond the curtain of
life, still the love and the
memories inhabit the mind and
hearts of those left behind; “grief
never sleeps”.
©2013.annjohnsonmurphree
ann johnson-murphree 