The Entombment
I embrace serpentine promenades of pain,
long summer walks down country lanes
and bugbears that hide in narrow corners,
away from the watchful eyes of travellers,
who press on,
on,
always on,
never stopping to wonder where they’re from,
never stopping to question when their journey will be done.
In the knot of a tree,
I hide my guilty pleasures and stolen fears,
my vain romances
and lost years
I cache all my darkest days
and circle back to the same spot,
repeatedly,
throughout time.
While others move on,
I cling to what is mine
I admire this tree,
its exquisite design
it inspires me to bury my feet
under leagues of solid ground,
roots leading deep,
deep,
deeper down,
to a realm I am as yet,
unaware of,
to a place I never knew I abandoned
I reconnect somehow
and dream a dream to last a thousand years.
The rains come and go
I am washed away
and now I grow,
my leaves dry up,
give way to snow
my thoughts make soil,
good and rich.
The travellers of old
see my beauty in springtime
I love it when their children
climb upon my vines
I love the smiles of those
who finally see me,
who want to be near me
The birds who cling to me,
make my arms their home
I’m proud that through all of my stasis,
I am no longer alone.
