Neunzehnte Tag (19)--Prose Poem--We Who Have Slumbered

This is a prose poem, meaning it doesn't have to rhyme. If you'd like to know more about what a prose poem is, go here. I hope you like it.

WE WHO HAVE SLUMBERED

Waiting for the break of 

A new day,

Hover near

Hoping you'll notice

What others have not.

Can you hear us calling?

Can you feel our hearts 

 Beating in cinq

With the echoes of time?
So long we have tarried,
We who have slumbered.

Breathless we stand

As you read letters

From the dusty centuries past.

"Who were you?" you ask.

We ache to tell you

But cannot

For our earthly mouths, 

Long stoppered 

With winding cloths,

Will not obey.

We wait and watch

Begging without words

That you find us.

Search for our stories.

Bring us back to the light of day,

Remove the coins from your eyes

That you might see us,

We who have slumbered.

Fill the air with our long-dead laughter.

Bring our love,

A treasure trove in ancient 

Ribbon-bound letters,

Before your eyes and hearts.

Fill your ears with 

Our broken songs.

Heed the lessons 

For which we richly paid

With our bones.

We who have slumbered.

You have stood upon our shoulders

Our callused hands once buoyed

Your existence.

We are the builders of bridges. 

We quarried the stone

And mined the coal.

We are they who bled that you

Might live,

Safe in the cities 

We built.

We are the forgotten.

We who have slumbered.

We reach out our hands

To caress your cheek,

Children of our children's children.

Trailing age-shivered shrouds

We long ago ascended.

Now we wait, 

 White-clad, 

For you, our legacy,

With arms outstretched.

Bring our stories home with you.

Tie us to our long-lost families

With silken skeins of love,

We,

Yes,

We who have slumbered.

© 2014 by H. Linn Murphy