Email Poem

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Poem

I watched her flowers wilt-
Somber, as my tears
were unable to resurrect
their perennial luster.

My bones brittle under the weight
of her cold, and lying smile;
I tried to sew my seed. 
Foolishly plowing in soil muddied 
by blood that was quickly becoming 
clotted by history- Weakly reflecting its
cost by a sallow moon.

We cannot harvest what has been tainted. 
We cannot sew seeds where soil has 
roots rigid with anger.

And yet, I dug. Crimson hands staining 
the tools her enchantment gave me. 
Hoping they didn't break each time 
I hit a stone that reminded me of her
once adamantine heart.

Slick with the salt of anguish,
I loosed the tools into shadow
where I prayed hope still found them.

Too weary to go on in the cold. 
I lit a fire under the waining 
reflection of my regret. Curled up. 
Letting rotting branches kindle. 
Praying for a warm Sun to work 
under. Or rain to wash it all away.

I closed my eyes. 
Pictured her working the Garden. 
The way only she could. 
Her smile became the Sun. 
Everything began to bloom.
As I sank into the Earth.

Finally forgiven.

-James Kelley 2019

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