Monday, August 20, 2007

Ghosts of Winter

That I should die in winter
And be buried in the snow
'Neath all that's white and pure
To lull the ghosts below

Slip me beneath the whitened tufts
Of summer grass laid sleeping
Leave me there to rest, alone
A hero's silence keeping

No misery in winter wind
No grief on glittering snow
Yet, hallow all who life rescind
That freedom there may go

On the air a last note echoes
The crowds have gone away
Drifting through marble meadows
Like snowflakes through the sky

Do not come and weep for me
The world is, as it should be
Life above, the dead below
Lying there, beneath the snow

Written during winter, 2005, as I contemplated deployment.

1 comment:

lala said...

this poem is beautiful. despite the outdoor summer heat as i write this, upon reading this, i felt a chill that tasted reminiscently of winter.