The Shadows of Yesterday

There are shadows;
shadows that break among trees
and slant upon hills,
that move fast over a barren ground
easily overtaken and altered
by the curve of a vanishing moon.
And such a ground is unforgiving,
hollowed for the graves of people to whom
names once belonged.
Such shadows begin to heel
in the dawn,
labored sounding groans prolonged,
as they cross,
stride,
walk
over Yesterday.
Yesterday now flung downward
is gelid,
cold,
and fragmented;
yesterday is rough with voices
and sounds of emptiness,
deep emptiness.