My head rests on the root of the tree
Thoughts roaming through my head
Wind rushing through my ears
Clouds surrounding my pupils
Dirt slowly burying my body
Nature is calling me home
And I've been so lost
Every path just a wrong turn
With a dead end
I can't battle with life anymore
So I decide to give up the fight
And let the earth swallow me

You were my prized possession.
I shone you around,
polished you,
shoved you into everyone's faces
told them all about you.

But you failed me.

Now I must put you away in shame,
you are nothing now.
I'm an ashamed widow.

I only prayed to the moon after it rose beyond
my window, the white sill a frame for waning
crescents and gibbouses--milk-drowned gods
dripping stars as they climbed skeleton branches--
some nights resting behind flood-heavy clouds.
People say the moon has a face, but
I have yet to see it sneer at my sins even as it tastes
my ocean-drop tears, evaporated into sky-bound veils,
brushed along the shadowed craters ...

The moon itself bemoaned imperfections in midnight
wind creaking branch against branch until I woke
slow from sleep--sad light staining my walls
pallid, pale as my own skin, glowing in muted
television shows left running while I dreamt
the moon spilled a star between my ribs--
dim luminescence radiating warm,
and the star, seeping through my pores, thawed
the ice I had prayed to melt in the first place.

Petals swimming in the sunlight
Stained by these evening dreams

Pinks that settle with the emerald shards
And watch the stars gather above
A whirlwind of love

A peaceful heart ache
The letting go,
An anger for the red petals to take

A promise of the days ahead
That beauty and joy will return
A bouquet of flowers for the dead