…and the songs of the lost

Life’s perilous seas and treacherous currents
carry our memories far from the shore
so far, that our songs can no longer be heard, or even remembered
so far that faces, once familiar
seem to fade a little with every passing day
the golden glow of once lit flames now fading into darkness
the year slowly turns towards the shortest day
and the longest night, that brief moment
when the sun dons its cloak
darkness rises to the surface, engulfing us in shadows
the ghosts of our past awakened from slumber
their unspoken words a haunting refrain
that sings of wishes both lost and unfulfilled
in the lingering void, the silence is louder than pain
reverberating in the empty chasms of the building night
the voices of the dead and the songs of the lost
circle the vast avian vault, both predatory and broken
aching to be heard, through closed eyes we see them again
all of the things that we ever lost
our hearts fill with regret as the days grow shorter and colder
our souls now heavy with pain
in our loneliness crying for comfort
but there is none to be found
in this cold, desolate place
© Ann Bagnall