When I feel these fears, I sense the horsemen
who chase on chilly nights from dream to dream.
I hear their steeds seek within the shadows,
where embower’d air I breathe does flee from me.
When I now see the misery unleashed
upon earthly beings that knew no evil,
I hear broken wings of angels fallen.
I see them steal the souls of those asleep.
When I inhale the dust within this space,
I breathe both life and death, its beauty’s truths,
and taste the tears of winter’s sleeping rose,
where marbled angels fill the nights with grace.
I sense the sleeping souls that will awake
as a chamber’s mist, waiting for release.
And when the emerald in the rainbow sees
crimson with seven heads and seven crowns:
Then, this dream does glean as a witness tree,
seven opened seals and seven trumpets sound.
Cemetery Series #11
These are possibly the thoughts of an angel assigned to guard the graves of sleeping souls. It was written during three scrying sessions from July 8, 2023, to early August 2023. This sonnet-like poem demonstrates that the classic sonnet can be reconfigured to accommodate what needs to be said in a needed sequence with either extra or fewer lines than the traditional 14 lines total.
All images of daguerreotypes, ambrotypes, tintypes, cabinet cards, and postcards are from the author’s private collection. Photographs appearing on this writer’s pages on this site are licensed.
Copyright 2023 Michael Eugene Cantrall
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