Stone Sleep

Lost again, took a wrong turn,

the city lights behind me, ceased to burn.

Then, the gates, wrought iron, black and tall,

the cemetery wall, encompassing all.

A single street lamp, sickly yellow glow,

lit up the stones, row after row.

No fear, just quiet, cool and deep,

where every secret seemed to sleep.

The names, half-shadowed, on the cold stone face,

a stillness settling in that lonely place.

I drove so slow, past carved relief,

a strange, unburdened, soft belief

that maybe, here, under the empty sky,

there’s nothing left to fear, or to deny.