GOD'S ACRE

GOD'S ACRE

Finger on my chin
Wondering who finds a place there
The holy? Sinful? Forgiven?
Homeless spirits maybe...
Dead memories of them
That lay down deep
Embraced by dust and soil
In the swiftness of the wind
Their souls roam
Searching places to find
Feeling like lost itself
Flesh no more...just dust
The piece of isolated land
For them...not for the living
Till another gets its place,
It'll be revisited.
And their gone-days
Are colours turn dull
Food that's lost taste
And days which sunrises will never be remembered.                                                
                         (GOD'S ACRE.)
                         VIVIAN AGORO