Coming and going in a night of shades
the shapes of my mind gliding over my body
echoing the sound of no mouth in the wind
telling nobody the certainty of the pain.
What should be said and forgotten
of long fallen bodies
over those ranged cliffs on the shore
where all the suns are setting.
Walking among the tombs
my uncle dead and stiff
ancestors hard as stones
and the trees waving overhead,
i hear the sound of death
gently singing by my side
and all the beasts of the forest
wandering free and wild.