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Wondering

And I worry,
as the soft skies fall
silent to crows. We stand
in a congregation of sorts
watching the small body blaze.
As much desolation is left in me
as it's left within you,
you waited to deal with death
where I disappeared
into the Jamaican haze.
We enjoyed
days
of massages and listening to sounds
that soothed the body, soothed the mind
and left us erratic and left us climactic and left us enigmatic in the soft sky silence,
blessed by crows,
trying to make sense of the waste that is left.
At the wake
I place posies on burning embers
and wait for you
as I always have
to bring the peace
and piece of mind
back to me.
Written by ImperfectedStone (The Gardener)
Published
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