I want to free my soul.
And let the life within me fly…
Break
this existence…
And
leave this world behind.
When is
it time? To weep for those who have died. I’m feeling all that sadness, when it’s
welling up within me deep inside.
This is
the burden, she must carry.
And every month, must become wary…
Weep,
dear Martha for all lost souls.
Buried
six feet under holes.
And remember them, at the very end.
Of each
month’s cycle.
The
earth to mend.
When the ground becomes soft.
To sop
up her tears.
And
soak the seeds we’ve sown for years.
I cradle this moment,
This holy lament.
Filling your hearts,
With a distant scent.
To let new life into the world.
A
heavenly sound,
If
ever be heard.
And she will awaken,
After a
small brief state,
Of
warmth inside a sleeping crate.
To wipe the tears then from your eyes.
A
glimpse of dew in cornered size.
And behold the rainbow,
And the
sun.
And newly wrought creation sprung.
A tender leaf,
A single
stem,
But
every One,
For them.
~ CLynn
