The Bones of You

The bones of you lie entwined in the sand. The waves lap around you, the blood moon shining down on your broken body, onto the bejewelled brooch that once adorned your shoulder.

I gather up the bones, sifting through sand. Your head. An arm. A leg. The other foot. Four fingers. The broken ribcage. Soon, the bones of you are whole. I take your hand, chant the ancient words, as the power fills you, heals you, wakes you. You smile at me, empty eyes open.

The invaders have forgotten us. But we do not forget them, under the red moon.