Water the Soil
On the stone I carved your name
on my heart, the chiseled flame-like
permanence
but there's no permanence
that’s just some shit we say in fear
to help us pass the years
I was lost and couldn't sleep
with you distant from my feet,
my perfect son,
what have I done?
I put you in the ground tonight
out beside the house
by the window light
I laid out there in our blanket
and imagined you were kicking in your sleep
just three feet below
where your father weeps
In the morning I came to
Did you hear me calling you
I listened then
with pressing ear,
"You're not alone - I'm here,
watering the soil
just above you, dear"
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