On the Hour

I wear a cloak of my own skin  
Wrapped loose around my naked self  
   
Where spider veins have been exposed  
And show the pulse of deeper pains  
   
To walk my feet upon the tiles  
And leave the bloodied prints in line  
   
That never lead to where I might  
Receive salvation from this plight  
   
To hear the ones before me scream  
And warn me not to follow them  
   
So onward up a different path  
The sight of clearing sky ahead  
   
That rises o'er a summit vast  
And blows away my mantle skin  
   
And now I'm on a playground green  
Where children stop in shock of me  
   
While others hide their eyes to see  
The horror of my human grief  
   
I bow and fall down on the ground  
And turn to lie upon my back  
   
To feel the warming calm of earth  
The heat of sun is soon revealed  
   
And nourishes my new-born flesh  
While worms & slugs & sow bugs crawl  
   
Like tiny fingers laying roots  
Where I become a bush that grows  
   
The tender shoots to grow the buds  
Becomes a flower garden sweet  
   
Inviting bees and butterflies  
That soon will pollinate the blooms  
   
To fill a vase that sits upon  
A table set for company  
   
Where one place is set just for me  
The flowers entertain a bee  
   
The guests are talking quietly  
Till in I come, smile, "Dinner's served."