Hallowed silence surrounds her:
fallen stars flickering amid mist-frosted grass
and autumn leaves in their myriad faded hues,
bruised petals and baubles strewn
at the base of each cold marble plinth–
all the familiar remembrances,
the bittersweet farewells she knows by heart.

She wanders ghost-like among these tombs,
an unseen witness to mute devotion and grief,
carrying the holiness of this singular night
within her heart until time circles back upon itself,
an exquisitely inconspicuous ouroboros
that brings it all around again,
the gifts the living offer to the beloved dead.

This post originally appeared on Beyond the Yellow Door.

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