skonen_blades

What kind of graveyard is your heart?
What corpses nourish the plants you grow there?
How fertile is the soil?
A heart must be tilled like a garden
Churned from time to time to let air in
And like any garden, it must have compost
Some decomposing fruit of friendships no longer on the vine
Coffee grounds of sleepless nights
Eggshells of children that will never exist now
Lots of tears
And a huge amount of horse shit
The rot of dying things will only make it healthier
So trees can flourish and grass and spread and flowers can bloom
For their seasons and their cycles
For the heart must have the bottom brought to the top
Ploughed and turned
The darkest parts exhumed to the light
The lightest funeraled to the rich deep dark
To keep the process going
To keep moving forward
It’s what hearts are made for
If they stay preserved and untouched
Static, sessile, trapped in amber
They wither
Like a frozen astronaut on a long voyage
But the good thing about hearts
Is that as long as they are beating
They can be tended to
With a little work
A green thumb or two
Some effort, some seeds, some clear days
Any graveyard can be a place of peace
And beauty



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