the rowan

[dredpiratebunny]

strength, she says.
freedom in my steps.

she tries hard to deny her shaking legs
and peeling cuticles
the heart out there on the floor
tinier than she remembers: the elephant in the room

learning lessons all the while
leaving pebbles to the trail back home
the crows eat those too
and forget to fly
and mill about her feet
pecking for more

without direction
she asks for more
a pressing need to carry what others deem too much
more, she says.

the crowcauphony follows her
and she has nothing left to give
but the stump of her soul and wide arms
anything, she says
she wants
and waits for the stones to pass
expecting salvation in the filth

she lifts each heavy boot
for what she knows must be the last
and is still walking
blindly into it

ending, she pleads
and wills her breath to end
cant bear to look where the trail once was
or anywhere
and instead,
grows roots, curves over, and flowers.

the crows, they circle her still