Copyright 2010
Judith J. Bentley
My body grows cold--
my bones are boulders and rocks;
my blood, the river water.
I am the silent witness
I wait.
The women appear and hesitate.
I watch them
walking on my bones
in search of a firm footing,
something to hold onto.
On the far bank
the cemetery's sleepless eyes watch
and wait to welcome each
into that final footing--
a monument for their bones.
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