Sacred Beliefs

†††
The air is stagnant here and it is hard to breathe,
In the haunted valley of death,
Where others go to end their lives,
And to seek the dream of eternal rest...
†
The gates that surround the headstones,
Are rusted with traces of black,
You know that once you enter,
There will be no turning back...
†
The moon is full and hard to see,
The view masked by the midnight fog,
Every step you take with fear,
And the stench here so very strong...
†
But something has drawn you  in closer,
To a place you were warned not to be,
The silence is eerie and frightening,
In this darkened forest of trees...
†
The deeper you walk in this valley,
The darker the sky seems to get,
But you now see in the distance,
The fog from the ferries breath...
†
They sit on the branches so very high,
Some even fly past your head,
And bite you with blood and vengeance,
It is everything that you dread...
†
The darkness is now filled with terror,
Because they simply wont let you flee,
You have stepped past the gates of hell,
And have awakened the sleeping beast...
†
The souls rise up from their graves,
You look for somewhere to run,
They appear as forms in the mist,
And the evil has finally begun...
†
You are shaking as they now surround you,
You can feel the pain from their bites,
The dead have no remorse,
In the darkness of the night...
†
Your fluids drained and empty,
Your heart ripped from your chest,
Welcome to the valley,
Of dark eternal rest...
†††

A pigeon flies low over a head stone,
plump with summer feed,
blackberry filled shit
splatters the granite.

One hundred and nine years later
growth has blanketed the grave,
a bush claims the spot,
bursting with new ripe fruit.

A young boy is eating more than he picks,
pops in another and spits out the pips.
His fingers are stained with juice,
thorns repeatedly snag his wrists.

From outside the small church
he listens to the service for the first time.
The pulpits microphone, feeds back, new age
 in an old place. "Take and eat this in remembrance"

He notices a statue beneath the bush
and thinks about the blackberry,
nutrients in the soil passed stalk to stem.
"And feed on him in your heart"

He drags away the brambles with red raw hands
to reveal an aged stone crucifix,
detailed by Jesus, moss and frost fractures.
"The blood which was shed for you"

The following Sunday he tended the grave again,
sat on the grass in the quiet of the churchyard
he looked into the statue's stone-cold face
and began to recognised something of himself.

I'll just sit here and listen, he thought;

What he heard, changed his life forever.

Mine heart be pierced  
were it not so loved;  
or doth receive  
every light from above.

To he whom knows  
it shines so rare;  
where full it grows  
in want so bare.  
 
Yet not without,  
and still within;  
a regale beats  
'ere light grows dim.  
 
Let one light rise  
to beam upon  
whose heart believes  
in weak made strong.  
 
And lo, a song;  
an anthem's refrain --  
the mystery of dark  
wherefrom I call your name.  
 
    .....