The words, they 
come like memory 
distant as the 
dawn waking within 
dreams whispering 
like grief 

and again the 
sorrows speak
remembers the 
shadows that 
do not sleep, 
restless

and deep in 
their longings
black as the 
night where even 
the black 
birds weep

for the ghosts 
already gone
and still those 

yet to be

©Debbie Berk 2017