Ash settles softly on the chapel rail A red moon bruises the frozen veil Under the bell where the ravens turn I hold the name of the ones who burn You left your gloves beside the door One torn red thread across the floor The winter found your vacant chair And laid its silence on the stair I carried letters to the lake Watched every sealed confession break Your photograph went pale and thin But I still let the cold come in If grief is a kingdom, I wear its crown If mercy is waiting, it has not come down You are the wound beneath my skin The locked-room prayer I breathe within When every tower folds to stone I’ll call your buried name alone Beyond the pines, the iron gate Still leans against our house of slate The garden sleeps beneath the frost Counting every stem we lost You told me dawn would make it right But dawn arrived without its light So take my hand through all this gray And teach the dead to turn away Kneel in the dust Swallow the blame The blood remembers The blood knows your name Break every seal Drag every chain I built this altar From sorrow and pain You are the wound beneath my skin The locked-room prayer I breathe within When every tower folds to stone I’ll call your buried name alone No grave can hold what we became No frost can quiet out the flame If I must walk beyond the years I’ll carry you through ash and tears You are the wound beneath my skin The last true place I’ve ever been When every tower folds to stone I’ll call your buried name alone The bell grows still, the red moon fades Snow gathers where your shadow stayed I close the door, but not the flame And whisper once into the rain: Your name
