Me, The Wind and the Old Shadow

Loneliness can wake memories... and force the living to remember those they held dear, their ancestors, those good diligent people who walked the road of dreams with their heads held high towards the promised land...
And now these dear people are high up in a sacred domain, where there is no greed, no hatred, no envy. no slander... just a rove of wonderful angelic hands interwoven around the magic aura of love...
I wrote this poem to honor my late grandmother...

ME, THE WIND AND THE OLD SHADOW

Me and the southern wind,
Surrounded by a wall of the honorable past,
We walk together influenced
By a common destiny,
And dark shadows hide among crosses,
Dragging along the cemetery
Like a funeral procession.

Next to the smallest,
The humblest grave,
That shadow was waiting,
That infinitely old shadow,
With its tilted black hat.
It seemed that the pricetag was still attached
To the mournful black dress.
The wind is wisely whispering
That its mission is
To be a sister to the deceased.

Looking at the old shadow,
I was deeply impressed
To see that it can't tear itself away
From its dark home,
And how it embraces the old wooden cross
With utmost tenderness,

If my dear grandmother's ghost
Is hovering above us
And watches us,
It shall surely ask:
"My son,
My sister,
My brotherly wind,
I hope that you shall not
Give up on your duties, shall you?"
"Never, dear sister!" The wind voices itself.
"Never!... Never!... By my soul!... My dear grandmother!" I promised.

They said that there could be
No wind there,
Where the dead are.
They told me that
Winter
And
Darkness
Ruled everywhere where my grandmother's ghost went.
I had to write it down,
Even if I have to repeat it,
Because it makes me so happy.

I know that
Wherever my good grandmother's ghost goes,
There can be a warm wind,
Wherever the final resting place of those we hold dear is.
I know that there is summer everywhere,
And the light is shining.