The Whispers of the Dead

I sit in the cemetery watching the ravens take their pick of perches among the grey faded headstones and the newly shined marble ones. Here lies the dead. The silence of this place is deafening and I can almost here the whispers of spirits calling for their loved ones. They sense my presence and try and reach out to me. I tell them that I cannot help what has already happened and nothing but wind is heard throughout the silent place. I come here to be alone and visit my love. I will never forget that fateful night when he was taken from me in a fight to protect his home and his family from the evil robbers. I remember holding him one last time and seeing the blood flow from his mouth. He was shaking violently as the cold rain came down in great ropes. I held him close and assured him that he would be ok and not to worry. Minutes later he lay cold and still in my arms. His last words were "Take care of my child for you are my beautiful wife and I love you." I cried and held him close to me feeling the wetness of his tears and blood against my dress. I pushed back the hair from his forehead and kissed it softly. Now I can hear his voice whispering among the others that he loves me and to go on and live her life and be happy. He whispers this to me and I cry and tell him that I can never love again and that he was my only love. My blue eyed boy dressed in a men's clothing my sweet baby boy. Written April 3rd, 2002 © on Apr 03 2002 09:06 AM PST   0 • 1