silent hope

a stony breath
bereft of eager life
bequeaths eternity
upon the trembling soul
of this lone child
taken all too soon
from the shores
of derwent water
where once she roamed
full of wonder
and whispering ever
of tomorrow’s
silent hope

in the kirkyard of St John Church in Keswick, Lake District

clinging

there is such decay

in this aging flesh

such pain clawing

through these limbs

gnawing at the fibers

of transient being

and yet we hold on

grasping at perpetuity

while gasping our last

precious promise

of certain intransigence

and desperate need

we seize at vitality

angrily breathing needles

piercing our veins

with chemical inducement

and medical murmurs

moistened with tears

with trembling limbs

we prostate ourselves

before imperceptible deities

touching coldest stones

with sweaty hands as

generations of ghosts

have done before