I hear
From your empty room
Those sounds
Of the saddest
Sleep –

A stirring
Of rigid linens
In darkness
Bold
And hushed,

Where screaming
Breaks with noise
This silence
Smashed
Like crystal

What rest
Is hardly peaceful
Where fear
And nightmares
Dwell.

As I listen
Down that hall
From my bed
A tomb
Of mourning

To calls
Behind each
Doorway
Of whispers
Told at night

So candles
Lit with prayers
Bear flames
Of dancing
Shadows

On walls
Aglow with phantoms
Like ghosts
And formless
Shapes –

Among
Our brightest
Days
Held inside
That fire

Projected
Into darkness
Through light
Which piereces
Black

Recalling
Times well spent
Amidst
These quiet
Echoes

And reasons
Worth believing
My tears
Bring certain
Haunts.

– J. Pigno