Sacred Tomb

Aching, groping, fingers curled Buried deep into the dark Warm and moist loam. Hoping to grasp the secret Rituals of her remembered seasons Of growth beneath expansive gloom. Slowly now, I rubbed her essence Into my clean and open pores, Searching for her healing For life's red and puffy sores. She, healing me...quietly, With each grain of time honored memory And the remnants of a hundred kindred souls Who once marched across her beautiful face; Seeping their rotting molecules Into this secret, sacred place. How dark the soul, how green the growth and warm the sun upon my lips, I whispered to the waiting, silent ghosts. How sweet the fading daunted mind now slips into agreed upon forgetfullness Lest we all remember the sullen, fragile hosts. How soon we join her sared womb And add our contributions to her store, How soon our bodies rot within her tomb; Do we rise to sing once more? Celebrate each day above the ground For once the body's lost to death There's no more reason to be earthbound.