Life & Learning

Words from the Wasteland

I was gone for awhile.

Beneath the darkest ground.

Cold to the touch– I was hard as death.

Wasteland, Wasteland,

I’ll bury myself here.

Nothing can grow from this ash-made piece of me.

I place two hands above the mound.

Bitter cold in the spring. And fast dead leaves in summer.

Wasteland, Wasteland.

I put my ashes there.

Vigorously watching—half-hoping for the rain.

Whole-needing Light again.

Cold ashes in the ground. Anything, Anything?

Two hands above the mound.

Nothing, nothing. And I am hard as death. Continue reading “Words from the Wasteland”