My Palace: My Prison
Build me a chair in the woods, dear one.
Surround me with the fresh scent of life and death
floating on a summer’s breeze
Leaving a slight chill beneath my nose long after leaving
me.
An old stump knarred with dancing skulls
loved by lush green moss set in a ring of granite
stones
watched by towering guards
on a melancholy carpet of dead pine.
I will dwell lovingly with intimate castaways from
the canopy above
Composing a sonnet in honor of the inchworm
Floating amid leafy green curtains
Tiny neon seahorse when he climbs.
I will sit upon my throne in this rousing coliseum
of nature’s curses
Oceans of leaves applaud me from the cheap seats
A pious crow calls to his flock a prayer of
remembrance
The choir sings
Spotlights shine through holes blasted in the
ceiling
Providing me a small measure of light
When the wind is furious
Twinkling tears scatter about the forest floor in
waves.
In the chilly breath of fall
Charred remains of death’s victory slap my face
A sad dance of refugees start their pilgrimage
To find comfort on a bed of their ancestors.
The forest’s curtain withers to ash
Decomposing shades of brown grow over the youthful vibrant
greens
Inviting the first frost
A crusty blanket of snow to silence the crushing
sorrow beneath my boot.
Ice bites my face
Frozen water drips from mournful eyes
A smoky exhale of life yet to live.
When it’s time for me to go, dear ones,
Cut me a path that is narrow and straight
Shade to darkness
along a trail of tears
Let the moon guide me to my resting place
In sorrow
Dreaming about the chair you built me in the woods.
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