There On Your Grave

Dearest angel
of the morning,
why are we
estranged? I called
out to you
in my mourning,
but those words
fell by the way.

What could you
have said?

What was left
to be done?

You sit there,
waiting for
yet to come.

Are you praying?

To whom do you speak?

There on your grave,
I wonder if you
were always

praying for me.

©️ Obol, 2018.

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