The Cemetery Poem by Emmanuel George Cefai

The cemetery
The place of bones
A million?
More millions?

How are the bones
Fragmented?

Is a fragmented bone
Counting
More than one bone?

Do all sit still
At night
To here story-telling
By the Spirits?

Here,
Here my Monsignor
Touch this dim lid of stone
And now
That midnight be
Not far
You will hear
Throbbing as blood
The lids of tombs
Look
Look after you

And
You will see
Grey shadows
Rat colored
Speeding fast
Their grey dark
Replicating on the walls
That seep the sacred
Waters from the
Graves and tombs
That ventures out at night.
Come
Come my Monsignor
Before the clock hands of
Time
Race before Dawn!