Little Heap of Dirt

The Little Heap of Dirt
Her heart pound
Against her ribs
Tears and sweat
And dirt streaked
Her face
Her hair fell
Across her eyes
Clouding her vision
She clawed
at the dirt
Scraping it back
Cupping it in her
Bleeding hands
Scooping it up
Into a little heap
Breathing heavily
Sobbing almost
She bit her lip
Then whimpered
Still on her knees
She leaned back
She closed her eyes
She made the sign
Of the cross
Bent forward
and prayed
For her own
Wretched soul
She struggled to
Her feet
Hastened to the
Gate
She looked back
At the cemetery
The unmarked
Grave
No one
Would know
Her secret
The little heap
Of dirt
No one
Would know
Her grief 
 © Rose