Mourning For The Living by Heather Nelson

by Heather Nelson

Mourning for the Living

She is alone here, no one brings bright bouquets to the churchyard anymore
She wonders in silence through the echo chambers, grappling with history’s bitter embrace
darkened surrender stands here, she wonders in solitude, gripping the memories of a lifetime ago, happy, bright, she can’t let go
She is alone here, who else would mourn the living. He still exhales, his heart still beats and blood rushes through his veins
The voice isn’t his, she doesn’t know who this is, jagged stranger standing before her Inside the cracked pavement and iron bars of his own annihilation
Not a healer, a shaman still she tries to bring the living dead back to breath, to life Pays the price with her own destruction, she can still see shadows from his prior incarnation.

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