I have seen the places where the dead people dance
and you were not there
I have heard their voices in the brown earth,
     echoes in the grass

I have lain on the sand a seaweed stranded
like the ancient king who waits to die

And my footsteps were marked on forgotten paths,
     the cry of human voices
They do not fall from angels in Heaven

but by my absence
their shape takes the form of souls