A Faux Death

I slept a faux death

on pristine grass

void of the claws

of spade or tears.

A mere three feet

from your marbled name

I lay comforted by the moon

in its cradle of night.

Taken to a place where

dreams are forbidden

I was free from last words,

sunburned wishes, lips

that teased with promises unkept.

For a few hours I didn’t mourn

you had wings; that gravity

had tied me with ropes of pain.

Now without my shield of sleep

I see wildflowers rioting in purple

across your grave; hear sparrows

sing of angels; breathe spring air

free of the scent of dying roses.

Encircled in living watercolor

I wonder if it is your brush

painting life across my irises.

My heart feels less a stone

and more like life drumming

inside my chest.

Can this be hope?

©Susie Clevenger 2014

 At Real Toads Grace provided the poetry of James Wright as inspiration for our writing. Sunday Mini Challenge ~ James Wright