you showed me where we came from
the dirt in all of its glory
in the end, you said, we all have the same old story
from the dirt, we come from
to the dirt, we go
such a thought did grieve me so
you took my hand
not letting go
"what is dirt but where one grows
not only where we always go"
you kissed me then
and you were gone
the dirt is where you now belong
yes, i grieve you,
and wait anxiously for dirt to grant me its dirty, holy access
meanwhile, I will take some seeds
and
grow flowers in your absence