Restless Dead River mist -- glaring brightness dims, illusions of mid-morning moonlight softens decayed, bleak lines; Perceptions become muddled. All enveloped, by hungry mist, it obstructs sound, sight and lucid reason. Reality steps aside, unhindered; Past whispers, "Release Me", voices cracked, dry with age. From my vantage, above the valley today becomes yesterday, long buried. I glimpes them as they drift near waters edge; Forgotten, unloved and uncaring. Faint forms sharing one "commonality". Unable to release, what once was. Lost souls eternally searching for that not done or said. Muted questions shiver 'cross my nerves end. Madness, the sole sane explaination for this surrealistic vision, this--Faust hell. Cold moist fingers clutch my heart and throat. I listen, breathing stills, as their anguished cries fill my soul. I can endure no more and tears fall for the restless dead. My heart appeals to heaven, fingers of God, sunligh breaks the wall. Heat scorches, mist and shades recoil to become past, again. I breathe, released from their pain, the air--so sweet, so still. Life stirs, sight, reason and peace return. By:  Graci copyright 2000 -- Lorrie Workman 11-25-00 Return To Graci's Poetry2