Forgotten in Reverse Waiting for the Light to Turn

Adore the dead
they are you
history plants shallow roots
too easily stumbled over
stubbed toe
gravity’s pull
skinned knee
busted nose in the dirt
joints creaking
the body rises
back up from the forest ash
looking back
so easy to see
the submerged skeletons emerging
gnarled bony knots
of wood half decayed
exposed as hot winds blow
accumulated layers of fertility
dried-out sand storms
once the earth, once life
away on endless dust devils
traversing the old nation states
of men
it is what we see
it is seen so easily
it is this truth, this fact
that makes it so painful
so filthful
every time and time again
we do it
soon now
not to rise
creaking or otherwise


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