When the fatigue of the tree festers
When the leaves weep
And side-sweep
And sap leaks of the arboraceous bole
The foul smell of dampened,
Fermenting flora
The bog
The muck
The moor
Forever grot and grunge
But never moans,
Never loathes the morning
Never curses the sun for rising
Or hexes the moon,
Or thinks life bleak or banished
It settled in its mold
The duty it was told,
It’s destined purpose
As a puddle upon plates of terrain,
A tamed stain, remaining unmoved
And unaffected by
You and I,
Unaffected by passerby’s
Translucent and still,
Entirely exposed and yet unseen
Insouciant,
Tranquil
Composed
Serene

when I die cut me into pieces
keep the bits of me in your back pockets and leave me at train stations
hide me in between books at libraries and tuck me between the pews at church
leave me next to shampoo bottles at the pharmacy and plant me with blue hydrangeas
stuff me in between the sheets at ikea and in stranger’s coin jars
I want to be known so much,
I want the world to have me
If they don’t want me as a whole,
maybe they’ll take the scraps

I
am
healing
but I don't want you to take off your shoes in my home yet

I
am
healing
but I'm still afraid of your touch

I
am
healing
but while I'm healing, you're burning like a broken electric wire, and while you burn you bloom

so yes, I am healing
slowly
trembling
feeling numb
but healing

It wont always be like this. It wont. And it will be all over your hands and it wont be like this.