For the lost
Grief, asks no questions
But still we strive to fill it with an answer
To pity the undisguised soul
That walks bare foot across our sanctuary of dreams
To paint mournful dancing tears upon the lonely strangers face
Stranger still,
Our own reflection in the mirror of their eyes
We stand by graves
With unsung hymns still held between the fingers of our hands
Tongue dry
This is hope
This is grief
The glass is shattered
But still we weave a map from broken veins
As if 'our failing hearts' were born for this
To turn our losses with the spin of every coin
Upon the fall of every dice
Forcing an answer where no question lies
Our kingdoms born of chance and solemn kings
preparing for our death
While the orphan sweetly sings!
yvette m smith dec 08
poem by Yvette Smith
Added by Poetry Lover
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