April’s Home

Photo by Roman Synkevych on Unsplash

we buried you
on a day when flowers were giving birth
you died in April
and fell into Earth
and all I wanted was
to lay on the piece of wood
that separated the living from the dead
that separated you from me
I asked for rain
so I could shed a bit of my skin
for the fertile ground
a droplet of life perhaps
that could birth you back to us
but it doesn’t work that way
we stood at edge of your home
waiting
for nothing
but soil — dark and rich
to swallow you whole

I wondered on the days that followed
how much of your skin was left on your bones
how much of your blood lived in the grass
and when April came again to greet us
I wondered how many of the flowers
ready to be born
were because of you

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