Frost on the Graves

Come and walk these silent grounds
And tell me what you see

Names, dates, and a thousand faces
All of which mean nothing to me

Souls pull from a mortal casing
Now adrift in an infinite sea

Each one a speck, a memory lost
Now only for me to see

Under this stone lays a siren
One whose heart saw only gold
Long did she hunt and covet
Only to wither, jeweled and alone

Here lay the savaged lamb
Lovingly led to slaughter
By a butcher with no name
Only seen as the smiling monster

Here is the broken man
Bones ground down by stone
Left to his labors and toil
But every night, he sat alone

Behold the artisan, twisted and vibrant
Who saw the world’s many colors
But failed to see their tempted end
In the arms of their false lovers

And here is the ignorant victim
Who thought themselves holier than all
Met with revulsion and praise
So that blood came with the fall

Before you lay the virulent seeker
Seeking justice through the peephole
But heroic words don’t hide the stains
Of a life wasted as a useless troll

Behind you, the titan of history
The selfless and the beaten
Carrying the nightmares of peasants and kings
Atlas was left to be eaten

Now they lay below the frost
For the cold care not for the deed

And I have walked each path with them
Knowing they will never be freed.


It’s amazing what can be created in a morning drive. Wasn’t thinking about it, didn’t plan on writing at all today. And yet, here we are.

I hope you all enjoy.

2 thoughts on “Frost on the Graves

  1. Mayumi Hirtzel says:

    Some really thoughtful and evocative imagery here, shade. Nicely done! The siren and the savaged lamb images I found particularly striking, if sad. You’re on a roll with this one!

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