Final

The last wound was the deepest.

Kinder Scout by Beren Hartless

The wound of loss

Cries like the gale over the moors -

Fierce-whipping eroded rocks,

Stripping the thorned gorse of its last bloom,

Loosing desolation,
Devastating emptiness.

Silent-bound, the broken hillside mourns.

Only the kestrel keens.

B. I. Hartless