Thank you to a friend, for encouraging me
it's never too late to grieve and heal.
I trot down the hillside,
Gazing at meandering clouds
Against a baby blue backdrop,
Holding a wilted rose.
I come to a tombstone,
Where words give way to thicket
And pick up that
Rusted, piercing shovel.
With every stabbing of the spade
Into the flesh of the earth
I feel both a pang and a sweet release
"Bone of my bone, flesh of my flesh"
I dig a grave
Tens of thousands of words deep
And drop what's left of this withered thing
Into darkness.
It is okay.
And when I see the flowerbeds,
I will remember you.
And when I walk the fields
We used to roam,
I will remember you.
And when I see the mystery
Of the hand of God,
I will remember you.
And it is okay.
The specters turn.
And they wander away.
And the only one left with me is a boy,
Wrapped in unclean bandages
With tears welling up in his eyes.
And then we walked.
