The Unmarked Grave
On the wind blows a sad, weeping song for those
who have no marked grave and just a pile of stones
When the rain falls on the pile of stones
the water moves down to the body that
lays under the stone pile and
nurtures its bones and soul for the sky
is crying for the ones who have on grave
The veins that grow on the stones listen
to the tale of the one who is buried under them
The tree who stand tall near the unmarked grave watch over
it with its leaves when it comes fall and in
spring when the leaves are
reborn it reminds the soul under the ground
that it too will be reborn when the time comes
This one is sad
On the wind blows a sad, weeping song for those
who have no marked grave and just a pile of stones
When the rain falls on the pile of stones
the water moves down to the body that
lays under the stone pile and
nurtures its bones and soul for the sky
is crying for the ones who have on grave
The veins that grow on the stones listen
to the tale of the one who is buried under them
The tree who stand tall near the unmarked grave watch over
it with its leaves when it comes fall and in
spring when the leaves are
reborn it reminds the soul under the ground
that it too will be reborn when the time comes
This one is sad
