In Carencro, there is a field
where quiet shadows creep slowly
every stone is mouldered
and the wind refuses to blow
Walk through the grass walls
see how black it is
and beneath these thick trees
deep in the field is a headstone
There are no words written
no voice to question
only a vacant stone with
no etching
Once you hear the first
cricket shrill, be quiet
a faint and sad feeling
will fall over you
An innocent will appear
it's hair shines even
in the dark, it trembles
it cries, see the dark
It will glow blue
and whisper secrets
then there is a sigh
and its gone
This is a watcher
and you are the witness
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem