Mellow Mundane Mutiny Meets the madman Conducting orchestration For our mothers lips Saint Frances Saint Frances Saint Frances I hope you've arrived Cacooned eyes awaiting Ephemeral steady fluctuation Persephone gaze Diana's rage Eternal blue flame Dripping crimson fingertips The heavens eloped when you left us here. us. here Remains. Remains on the fire escape An external buzz Heard during my cigarette break My sight caught by persephones polenating powerhouses who remains meditative and floating Above the clover grass Elucid and fleeting Yet evermore Remains on the tumbling limestones and mounds of our ancestors. I beg for your wisdom Sometimes I think I'm hearing your voice Asking me to be calm And stop searching so deep Saying your "with me In more than the form of a humble bumble bee But still keep running for me through the vast trees Until you find your self unmoving and buckled at the knees"
I hear my grandfathers voice when I see a bumble bee, and my Grandmother Frances' face when I look at a church. I never met them or heard their voices while they were alive, but I'd care to believe they're with me always.