Helicopters

The highway drones beneath my feet,
And the rain falls hard against my face.

The wind howls,
Bending trees towards my tracks,
And beckoning ghosts from the past.

The railtrack clatters in the hills
that the night has shrouded in the mouth
of its cloaking face.

Out of breath, and breaking backs,
And summoning ghosts from the past.

Tonight, the sky's alive with bats
with red eyes, watching my chest weep.

And blood drips towards a grave
with neither a stone nor an epitaph
to mark its place.

The rainfall stings within my chest,
Teeming into a night
cloaked in the faces of family,
and those I'd sooner forget...

The summoning of ghosts from the past.

The highway fades beneath my feet,
And the trains are lost to the hills.

And the helicopters thunder into the night,
Heading back from where they came.