She fought the fight gone

Energy lost to the fading

Slow stepping beats

Like a labored dragging

Only time remains

Erratic in its spinning

And rigidity laces

Around bones bracing

Cover her in sand

And set a fire blazing

Death in a kiln

A tribute everlasting

4 thoughts on “WEATHERED

  1. Yet if she’s made of sand or ash
    Then it may come to pass
    The kiln’s great heat, and melting down
    Will turn her into glass –
    Will gather up her brokenness
    And turn it into light;
    Will cradle, warm, her shattered mess
    And turn it all aright.


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