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how do they rise

daylight calls on Cemetery Lane,
blows a whisper down the wind.

how do they rise, how do they rise.
innocents totter, old graves crumble,
and from ashes they do stumble;
from dust the lifeless groan.

the lovers sigh, rise to glory,
turn their faces to the sun.

tears from sightless, hollow eyes
burn trails down a cracked visage,
licking away at parched white bones;

rain settles dust on their tombstones
washing away the damned dates,
silent witness to reunion's touch
of ghostly skins on withered palms

rushing blood from deadbeat hearts
carries through their crumbling bones,
locks their arms in eternal embrace;

fossilised laughter, bubbling decay
seeping from lips, that in life
had forgotten how to smile.



© Marziya Mohammedali, 2001-2013