The Dead Breathe Through The Door Of Sky
P Patti Masterman
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The dead breathe through the door of sky,
In echo'd dreams and prayers, they sigh,
For in graves desire has no feet;
Their burning dust mirrors life's defeat,
And shriveled tongues are ghosts at sea:
Unsung, unseen, invisibly.
The storms of mind wound sleeping flesh,
In clouds you see the angel's breath,
The child of music flies in space;
A shadowed flame behind his face
To touch the sun, in world's asleep:
And stone gods in their heaven, keep.
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