Graves Without Names

A cycle of poems «Whispers of Mari El»

The wind whispers secrets through the tall, uncut grass
A lonely, mournful song that lingers and won't pass
Rows of markers, weathered gray, a silent, hallowed line
Graves without names, a forgotten paradigm

Graves without names, a history untold
Stories etched in stone, growing bitter and cold
Lost in the silence, swallowed by the years
A testament to sacrifice, and silent, unshed tears

Who were they soldiers, farmers, lovers, mothers, wives?
Did they dream of futures, did they live vibrant lives?
Drawn into the conflict, caught within the fray
Their names erased, their identities washed away

Graves without names, a history untold
Stories etched in stone, growing bitter and cold
Lost in the silence, swallowed by the years
A testament to sacrifice, and silent, unshed tears

I trace the weathered stone, a question in my heart
Hoping for a glimmer, a brand new, hopeful start
To piece together fragments, to whisper out their name
To bring them back to memory, rekindle their lost flame

The rain begins to fall, a cleansing, solemn rain
Washing over sorrow, easing the ancient pain
Perhaps in the quiet moments, their spirits find some peace
Knowing they're remembered, a sliver of release

Graves without names, a history untold
Stories etched in stone, growing bitter and cold
Lost in the silence, swallowed by the years
A testament to sacrifice, and silent, unshed tears

Though names are lost and faces fade away
Their memory lingers, with each passing day
We stand in silent reverence, beneath the somber sky
For the graves without names, and the reasons why.