Can Wind that Coarsely Sweeps the Soil

Can wind that coarsely sweeps the soil
Then brush away life's toll?
Can rolling winds dissolve our skin
And clean away our soul?
            We see our last horizon dawn
            Like gold upon the farthest reach,
            Our fading mem'ries whispered there
            From wren's nest on the ledge.

A silver bell rings near the well
Where travelers quench their thirst,
The mist of spirits gath'ring there
Drink death and their rebirth
            Our footfall on the barley fields
            Roots all our trust to there reside
            For this our land has surely been
            Our husband and our bride.

            We hear the beckoning humble tunes
            Now cradling soft in shadow's hand
            A comfort where we'll lay our head
            And pass into the land.

My lover sits beside my grave
Wherein my body lies
He listens for my bones to sing
For surely songs shall rise.
            He hears the wistful haunting songs
            My bones had learned before I died
            So I might sing and comfort him

            With wonder when he dies.

Copyright 2015 James Lawer