a study: decay

(i dig in the soil for you
and i pick through the carbon
for the memory of your voice.)

not because i want to remember
but because i want to change.
and i know that until i dig up all the pain
i tried to bury
i will not be able to go on.

i must go on.
because decay is just the labor pain
before a beautiful morning.
i'm waiting for the moon to become full
(i'm waiting to feel full)
but the Spirit is hovering like a breath
beneath my skin
and sometimes He's so close
that my knees buckle.

(my heart is flesh now, instead of soil.
and i will dig no more graves.)

x

jessika: y u write so many sad poems
me: here have one titled death
♥