I see your faces carved in stone
those I knew and loved so long ago
on marble trees with roots of bone.
Perched on the side of a hill
the guardians of our land remain still
faithful keepers of their fathers' Will.

Your crowns drip with blood and tears
roots buried in a thousand years.
Arms nailed on stone or wooden cross
you live inside my head you are never lost.
Walking around this place of death
I remember your lives and feel your breath.

Chris Zachariou

http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/the-cemetary/