Dry, Dry Earth

Hushed voices under the door,

Hollow across the floor,

They find me in this helpless state,

They hiss at me of a hopeless fate,

Not to disturb me the words soften,

But I can hear it mentioned often,

Death is present they say,

It is the blanket beneath which I lay,

Concern hovers in sickly heat,

Fever burns from head to feet,

The plants on the sill are dry,

The sun does not know how to cry,

Dust awaits me through the pane,

The hot sand of the barren planes,

Against my flesh until we both crumble,

In the distance, the mountains rumble,

The vast hunger of the scorched earth,

Wills to claim me, to return me to dirt,

My mouth is rotting, my tongue is thick,

Every breath threatening to stick,

Through blindness I hear the latch,

Soft words spoken I do not catch,

A cool presence at my side,

Watching me with life as I die,

No pity or sympathy, no lies,

Their soul open without disguise,

And then to my lips, a touch of cold,

A jolt of mystery, never old,

A drop of rain, a kiss so sweet,

A splash of youth, a true heart beat,

Something alive within my chest,

Something wild and full of unrest,

It flutters as water absorbs my flesh,

It grows from nothing somehow fresh,

And then I see a face that glows,

Her eyes are red, she does not know,

Tears fall from her eyes to mine,

Has she not seen the change in time?

I will LIVE I wish to shout,

But sound I go without,

For something shocking comes to be,

Though we meet eyes, through death we cannot see.

The End

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