Our faces <br />lie on the grass <br /> <br />white <br />as bone <br /> <br />our death <br />masks <br /> <br />drying <br />in the sun. <br /> <br />Later, they are to be <br />painted & adorned <br /> <br />(the craft of Art) <br /> <br />but now, it's as if <br />they have emerged from the grass <br /> <br />ancestors <br />who have owned these faces <br /> <br />before their ghosts <br />made them ours. <br /> <br />We lie together <br /> <br />a fallen leaf <br /> <br />between us <br /> <br />gazing at the centuries <br /> <br />the sun parades past us <br /> <br />like a Lord <br />& Lady <br /> <br />caught in stone <br /> <br />staring Time <br />dead in the eye.<br /><br />Dónall Dempsey<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/owning-our-own-faces/
