Sorrows friend, dirt and stone
covering their bodies in a new earthy home.
Let them rest when they’re not at their best,
and leave their throne alone.
Questioning the situation,
not understanding the implications.
Somewhat placid memories.
Pain filled hearts.
Stomachs churn, and clouds won’t part for anyone.
The sun knows not how to shine on the day of the dead.
The emptiness in the heart and soul of the living knows little of boundaries.
And as if it were some sort of twisted trend, the looseness of the situation has no ends.
And as the tears turn inward,
waging war on the love that once existed there-
making me aware of the ball and chain that drags around my ankles.
Exhausting me, looking like nothing more than an angel resting on a tombstone.
They force me to stand and carry them, like a load that I assigned to myself
without fully understanding what that role was.
And at the end of the day my hands smell of rosemary and rust.
The wind picks up the feathers and disperses them, leaving the rest in a cloud of dust.
And I stand there by the grave site, shovel in hand and feet bare and worn.
Tears streaming down my face,
being able to show nothing but authenticity
in the time of great loss.
In memoriam: Jasmine and Brawns, two of the sweetest chickens a girl could have around.
Thank you for your loving, beautiful, glorious presence. You made me smile every time I saw you, and my heart aches with the infiniteness loss of your current presence.