They sleep peacefully here,
hiding silvery secrets
under thick, worn skin

A whisper emerges
from shadows,
among rows of granite

Quivering souls— now stilled
The spirit of outstretched
hands shakes in all seasons

I feel the grip of hope,
salute the courageous,
these lanterns

whose lights still burn
these everleaves,
stark and tall, like the tree.


© Prasanta, June 2012


Inspired by the poem “American Beech Tree” by Patricia Cook