What bell peals here? I was long in the shade of my sickening, captured by a foreign touch and marched to a drum of whispers. I watched the trees, certain I would see some flitting form, here in this monument to suffering, I called out clear to the horizon, kicking at the walls of my grief.

What pale dawn did I not wander these pastures of my pain? And I was borne here, ferried on a tide of rejection, and so I ran, whimpering through a forest of scars. Cradle me, and I will lay me down in the sweet ground, just to be held again. Brush away my tears and never turn away. I will lie down in the soft light, casting out the ravages, cool and clear in this pool of comfort, safe in your arms until they say

“she’s gone now,… gone,… now… she’s gone to the gums”