Revenants - King Goat

They come across an aged oak.

Now, drawing close

Skinless fingers grip the trunk.

The sleeper wakes

Dappled light throws silhouettes on a dilapidated wall

Through scattered leaves, the scent of an unwelcome dawn

Fills the senses, drained of comfort, warmth and hope

And waking stupor, fades too soon

And she’s alone again.

A spectral form

A tale of loss to tell, Remains untold

When memory finally fades, what of the lost?

If their voices cannot be heard, Alone they’ll walk

And hunger for release.

Gone, but not at peace

The lives that they once lived, Haunt them, still

What kind of cruelty awaits beyond the waking world?

Illumination denied to chosen few

Uncomprehending.

Without an ending

Purgatorial wounds never heal

For the whole of immemorial time that slides slowly by

They are hoping, without knowing why they cannot die