My Wooden Box Was Too Small for My Heart
My Wooden Box — was — too small — for my Heart —
It beat — against the Grain —
Until the Cedar — splintered wide —
And let the Sorrow — in —
I tried — to fold it — carefully —
As Seamstresses — with Lace —
But Feelings — are not Linen —
They burst — from every Place —
The Carpenter — of Heaven — knows —
No Coffin — fits the Soul —
For Love — expands — beyond the Lid —
And breaks — its narrow Role —
So bury me — in Boundless Air —
And mark me — with a Tree —
For Wood decays — and Hearts — ascend —
To larger Mystery —
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