Echoes of Mulberry Peak

Barely listen, strain to hear,
The quiet psalms of fallen men.
Phantom calls reign far and near,
Random rustlings feign gentle winds.

In solemn sorrow I stand alone,
Gazing down on hallowed ground.
Where countless souls lie atoned,
Eternal peace so violently found.

I wipe a tear and bow my head,
As images flash before my eyes.
The field-filled scores of immortal dead.
Their shallow graves patrolled by flies.

They struggled bravely to achieve,
A blessed reprieve from ambient drones.
They died so nobly for their belief,
Now nestled prone in leaves and stones.

For whom so honors these righteous souls,
Cast away, bar thought nor prayer.
Forgotten spirits from days of old,
Passed away, shorn tear nor care.

Gaze out morns, through dawn's faint stars,
As clouds of vaporous ghosts beseek.
Hazed white billows mourn ancient scars,
And shroud the echoes of Mulberry Peak.


Copyright © October 2009
Kevin Mooney

kmm001
102009