We cannot change history,
This even I know, but each day
I still sit in silence
Overthinking every single thought.
Eulogies for every memory
So that I can never forget.
The past is dead and buried, and yet
In every instant
I find myself standing
By its gravestone, recalling its
Every breath, and every broken
Dream it took with it when it passed.

And suddenly, I am no longer
Simply standing, I am sweating with
Shovel in hand, desperately digging
Into fresh ground;
There is not enough space in
Here for two of us
And even so, I fit next to the corpse
Of every moment gone
Perfectly.
The weight of the soil
Crushes my chest and I can
No longer breathe, this is
Where I belong,
Where I know,
I am coming home.