It keeps her warm
her mind so weak
Not to know
not to seek

With every bite we eat
we starve one another
Then giving four mans share of food
as to save one brother

Corners cut and people swooned
jumping miles ahead
Who minds what the farmer does
as long as there is bread?

Thus I will hide my blade
and do this for my love
In my pocket and to the grave
No storm left while I dwell above.

It keeps her warm
her mind so weak
Not to know
not to seek.

when I die
I do not ask that you surround my body with clay soldiers in the depths of the dirt
I ask only for you to lay me down in the grass
and construct over me a monument of your words

I ask for you to speak of me as I was unable to speak of you
for I can not articulate your presence past the word love
see, my vocal cords cannot adequately express the way I feel about you
the best I can do is replace the ink of my pen with the blood of my heart
and splatter it upon the page

you know, its times when you’re there, and i’m here
that my mind fills with your thoughts
that my elbow refuses to bend because it misses your shoulder
that I pick a flower, press it to my nose, but still smell only you

its those times, when this page, is all I have of you
so instead of folding it into a paper boat and sending it down the river
I write words upon it
I write how much I miss you — and then I send it down the river

for I know that the mouth of the river is your favorite place
that you love to catch things just before they reach the open ocean
just as you caught me, before I sailed off without direction

you stopped me, you handed me a compass,
and then you climbed right onboard yourself
and we faced the open ocean together

so when I die
I ask that you speak of our journey
speak of what we learned about love’s tendency to forget the cardinal directions
so that the compass of my soul points neither here nor there
it points solely and unwaveringly to you

you turn away*
the way the earth turns so the sun can't fix it's heated stare
my look merely rolls off, unabsorbed
why do you rotate?
my gaze is not meant to dry your oceans
or burn your forests
I simply wish to light your mornings
illuminate your mountains
and warm your valleys

Do not stand at my grave and weep..
I am not there. I do not sleep.
I am a thousand winds that blow,
I am the diamond glints on snow.
I am the sunlight on ripened grain,
I am the gentle autumn rain.
When you awake in the morning's hush
I am the swift uplifting rush
Of quiet birds in circled flight.
I am the soft star-shine at night.
Do not stand at my grave and cry..
I am not there. I did not die.