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Mark Lecuona Feb 2017
Nothing so dead ever smelled so alive
The air full of soft cedar perfume
But where now the bees and their hive
The birds and the trees?
Every one that shaded our walks
Now a grave yard of memories
Cut down in haste before the sun
While the moon witnessed the sin
No light so bright ever felt so glum
Full as love once was young
Resisting the salt of *****
And tears never to be forgotten
To live instead without depth
To wade in shallow ponds
And not beneath the surface
Where our souls silently guide us
Is to allow the past, lying prone
To be trod upon by progress
No, it cannot be so
Where a breeze played alone
And a shadow dodged the sun
No, it cannot be so callous
As to allow its own heart to die
While the body walks away
Empty except for malice
Because for another to atone
Is to not be the comfort parade
For those who beg not to lie
Beg not to watch an eclipse
That can only sing sad songs
That only remind of its own
And how the only home
Remembered as it was made
A life without ever being paid
Only a sanctuary for the afraid
Now the busy dead live among us
And we must allow it to be so
The cross is where the bark fell
The spirit is what I shall tell
For I’ve become a birds nest rising
But it’s not so surprising
As my rhyme wavers once again
I must choose another hole to live
The one I once loved is full
Full like a rising tide
Reaching for its mother
Take me home the ocean cried
For what is left except for you?

— The End —