Echoes of the Lost Villages

A cycle of poems «Whispers of Mari El»

Cobwebs cling to window panes, where sunlight used to gleam
A ghostly chill hangs in the air, a forgotten, broken dream
Stone foundations crumble slow, beneath a blanket green
Echoes whisper on the breeze, of lives that once had been

Lost villages, swallowed whole, by progress or despair
Whispers carried on the wind, a silent, haunting prayer
Forgotten names and faces fade, like markings in the sand
Lost villages, a sacred space, a silent, empty land

The rusted swing set gently sways, where children used to play
The church bell tower stands alone, a testament to yesterday
Fields of wildflowers now reclaim, the fields where farmers toiled
A story etched in every stone, a history unfoiled

Lost villages, swallowed whole, by progress or despair
Whispers carried on the wind, a silent, haunting prayer
Forgotten names and faces fade, like markings in the sand
Lost villages, a sacred space, a silent, empty land

Walk softly here, and listen close, the spirits still remain
In rustling leaves and creaking wood, they whisper through the rain
They tell of laughter, love, and loss, of hardship and of grace
A reminder that all things must pass, and leave an empty space

Lost villages, swallowed whole, by progress or despair
Whispers carried on the wind, a silent, haunting prayer
Forgotten names and faces fade, like markings in the sand
Lost villages, a sacred space, a silent, empty land

Let the echoes of the lost, forever softly call
A memory held in the heart, before they fade for all.
A memory held in the heart, before they fade for all.
Lost villages...Lost villages...