A single slab of granite marks her resting spot
A little sliver of stone to signify the departed.
Cold and unfeeling, impersonal,
As if she meant nothing.
My cries reach the wind,
Carried through the tombs,
I cry for her, her voice in a lively world.
I cry for her, as no one else will
I cry for her, because she cannot.
I cry for her to show that she is not forgotten.
Tears run down my cheeks,
My voice becomes hoarse,
Bloody palms from clenched fists,
Scraped knees from kneeling,
And yet I do not stop my lamentation.
She is gone but only I mourn
She is departed and only I cry.
A world so brutal, so unfeeling that it
Doesn't acknowledge the loss of one so talented.
A single granite slab marks her spot,
I sit with her into the night and cry.