A grave for the sun

The ground is moist as I stab and twist

scraping along gravel and rocks

plunging forward to duel

with blades of grass

ripping through a patch of moss

that slides off of my sharpened point.

 

I hack through roots

digging deeper, molding clay

into remembered shapes.

I carve my nitch just to hold them.

The first is shaped like a deer

proud and defiant

pawing at the ground and snorting mist

I can almost feel it on my face

licking salt from my cheek.

 

Next I shape the mother divine

swollen like spring rivers

resolute like the stone.

She watches me sever worms.

Don't look,

I turn her away

as more dirt is shoveled over the dying

and patted down.

 

My sight descends

as I try to grasp the last moment of light.

It was a quiet death

that happened somewhere off to my left

as I flittered around in this hole

searching for some meaning to add to this eulogy.

 

I need a flashlight

filling this hole with the dead and the blind

muffling their tortured screams.

With godlike finality

I rub my hand across the loose dirt

to smooth out the rough edges

of this burial mound.

Reviews

[Kara Emily Krantz]

gorgeous....

i think you meant "quiet" death - just a little typo; i always make that typo with that word, lol.

I dont really find anything morbid about this piece. I found it to be wonderfully... searching, empowering, insightful... and probably a million other things. I realized that there was a 'burial' of some sort... but it was all so ... transcending, and part of the earth... that it felt beautiful :)

i adored this

[Eslynn]

Very beautiful in a morbid way... :]