i must remind myself
that people don't own places
no matter how much they feel like home
and that piece of grass
that feels like my mothers embrace
is just a mirror
i've buried my hope inside a vault
said a prayer
closed my eyes and said goodbye
shushing grasshoppers along the way
all that can be heared are my muffled sobs
and the echos of halfhearted steps
dragging metal across green damp strands of the earths scalp
i reassure myself that this is the way it has to be
the pungent smell of death and decay
the earth engulfs all our sorrows
embraces our dead
harbors our wars
and we too will pass
another disease the earth must rid itself from
and all that will be left
is a few bones clattering together for warmth
and a woman
whose gaze
follows you wherever you go