From the ground oh so cold,
An ashen gray arm shows
Reaching outward, gripping air,
Wishing something to be there.
What to be there you say?
Suffice it is not you I pray,
For when its eyes break ground,
Meet them, and your hearts sound,
Will be the only one to fill your ears,
Nothing else but terrible fears,
Will be all that you feel.
Take a look, at yon tombstone, kneel,
Whose name is it that you see?
Is it wholly beyond belief?
Now ask why the arm doth grasp.
Ask why your name does rasp,
Through its dead, decaying throat.
Your name through the air, it floats,
Now you hear. In disbelief,
You look at me; I’ll give no relief.
What I tell you, it is true.
As the gray arms hold you,
Closer now you see,
You are just a soul, a spirit and me,
I am he who guides you,
Back into your ashen arms.
There no paradise awaits you,
But forever kept from harm.
Fifty years, only a blink
And only bones are left,
Though still safe inside I think.
Sleep well within your nest.
Just to clarify, this is nothing of what I think of the afterlife, I just wanted to try to describe a monster rising out of the ground, and then the poem morphed into describing a zombie sort of thing. :p hope you enjoyed it.