THE BURIAL
I buried my child
At a tender young age,
I buried her
In every heartache.
I buried my child
In the fresh open wounds,
In the folds
Of the guilt and the shame.
In the slights and the losses
In the unspoken grief.
In the depths of my own isolation..
And the loose porous soil
Mounted higher and higher,
As the strike of the shovel
Resounded.
And she burrowed so deep
With a fervor she buried,
Just how deep
Dared the little child go?
She sunk to the innermost
Chamber of self
To a crypt,
Where she felt some protection.
From a world out of reach
Out of touch
Just beyond
The grave of her own isolation.
By DALLAS
© 2010 DALLAS
(All rights reserved)
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