There was a question mark, pointedly, right at the end,
approaching your spirit in the thorns.
You moved gracefully, lyrically, over the edge,
and I could not bear to watch anymore.
The pain you spoke flowed deep in the earth,
and no matter the tools that I bore,
I could never get it out, and the songbirds sang,
and I could not reveal anymore.
With my lying hopelessly on the floor.
Hoping someday, through erosion brought forth,
that all will be changed heretofore.
Leave a Reply