The gibbet elms

We have stood for centuries*
 Sentinels that frame the sky
 We have felt the exhalation
 Of souls passed under us
 We have trembled in the cold winds
 That lash the soils of death
 We have drawn upon the poisoned strength
 Of earth steeped in sorrow
 Our limbs have twitched and quivered
 To the sound of myriad snapping necks
 Our roots remained anchored and unmoved
 To the whispers of ending that clamour within
 All now is silent and still
 Yet resting not are the echoes of the lost
 As twilight descends and the murders wheel to roost
 The fallen rise again like mist
 To drape once more from our arms
 Like the rotting sails of a long-abandoned vessel
 The scars of time have reaved their pain not
 As the land sings its death-song again
 We have stood for centuries
 Sentinels that frame the sky
 We have drawn upon the poisoned strength
 Of earth steeped in sorrow
 A final threnody for a forlorn convoy
 That wanders, lost, in this bleak labyrinth
 Condemned to the aether beyond time
 A memorial pain unyielding that seeps into our souls