Going Home

And they rise,
a warm wave
emanating from the cool ground,

Treading slow. Carefully

Here I walk
through the mist
of the dead,

Standing still. Waiting

The hot moisture
of their silent cries
clings to my skin

Keeping watch. Tirelessly

Stopping in their midst
it is humanly quiet
in this ethereal place

I walk ceaselessly. Silently on