Cry

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.