Cemetery

Cemetery

A Poem by Breese Crawley
"

cemetery is just a metaphor.

"

Cemetery

 

I would lie in my backyard

In the uncut grass

Facing the starless sky

Like me, wild, lost and

Disappointing.

 

Moist soil bled into

My mind, my mind bled

Into the moist soil;

Wet mid-summer night soaked

My eyes, my eyes soaked

The mid-summer night.

 

Then it dripped, it rained, it poured

Liquid hails stroke me awake and dead

Silver thread wrapped around my neck

Stealing my silent cry

The air shattered above me and

Froze me with cold fire.

 

Froze me. Froze me for

Three seasons

Until my hair vined around the ancient tree

My arms rooted into the nether

My eyes fountained a pond and

My lashes bloomed a lotus

Until I became the soil

And became the sky

 

 

 

© 2014 Breese Crawley


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Added on December 3, 2014
Last Updated on December 3, 2014
Tags: poem

Author

Breese Crawley
Breese Crawley

WA



About
Breese is not my real name. English is not my real language. Where I live is not my real home. what else isn't real? Is the world real? AM I REAL? -------------------------------------------- I.. more..

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