Gone Home

She's gone home where the grand oak lives, whose branches and summer leaves insulate from the turbulence of life, a mighty protector and overseer of souls, casts an elongated evening shadow, cooling the grassy swell of earth which serves as an emerald shroud, purposely discriminating from those who live and those who die. A wailing voice shudders against the ground, but she can't answer----the sobbing of her lover wrenches the spirit heart, she wants to grasp his masculine hand, to feel the warmth of him one more time, to tell him she is in harmony with her finality, forgiving him and others for her earthly pain, tasting bitterness and resentment during her life and satiated with serenity after her last breath, she's gone home where the grand oak lives.