Can Wind that Coarsely Sweeps the Soil
Can wind that coarsely sweeps the soil
Then brush away life's toll?
Can rolling winds dissolve our skin
And clean away our soul?
We see our last horizon dawn
Like gold upon the farthest reach,
Our fading mem'ries whispered there
From wren's nest on the ledge.
A silver bell rings near the well
Where travelers quench their thirst,
The mist of spirits gath'ring there
Drink death and their rebirth
Our footfall on the barley fields
Roots all our trust to there reside
For this our land has surely been
Our husband and our bride.
We hear the beckoning humble tunes
Now cradling soft in shadow's hand
A comfort where we'll lay our head
And pass into the land.
My lover sits beside my grave
Wherein my body lies
He listens for my bones to sing
For surely songs shall rise.
He hears the wistful haunting songs
My bones had learned before I died
So I might sing and comfort him
With wonder when he dies.
Copyright 2015 James Lawer
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