No Place

a poem by Melyssa G. Sprott, USA - poetry writer, author, poet



They’ve got cemeteries,
it has been said—
but they’ve no place
to bury their dead.

While the living
lie asleep in their beds,
the dead roam and wander—
lonely they tread.

Though for sleep
they’ve surely plead,
they must walk—
by sorrow led.

Unfinished business,
these long-broken hearts—
restless spirits,
torn swiftly apart.

Unquenchable longing,
they wander and weep.
They walk forever—
searching for sleep.

They’ve no place
to bury their dead,
they want to rest—
but rise instead.

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