Long Prints

The prints they lead through mire and dust
In paths both wide and deep
To where the woods in silent trust  
Their ancient secrets keep

No beast doth make such crooked mark
Nor man with mortal tread
Yet there they wind, both cold and stark
Where none would dare to head

The trees, they sigh with heavy grief
For deep beneath the loam
Lie souls denied their rightful brief
Who never called life home

The prints, they lead to burial ground
Where unborn rest in gloom
Their cries, though soft, still stir the sound  
Of shadows near their tomb

What walks the path where none should be
With steps that none can trace?  
And what doth linger by the tree
That veils each hidden face?  

The earth beneath is cold and still
Yet something stirs below
A hunger that the grave can’t fill
A thing no light can show

So turn away, ere night draws near
Lest footsteps follow thee
For those who tread too close in fear  
May never again be free