My land wilted and mourned
in the eclipse of the December sun.
Bones scattered about, where
most parts and pieces died
as all things do,

And though the morning continued,
the rains eventually fell
washing away those acrid memories,
soothing the callused hard ground,
seeping through the angry cracks–
I listened as the lingering mist
tangled around my barren heart
and the dry palate of my soul
drank with a violent thirst.

And as all things do,
new life set its roots.
I listened to the silent groans
slipping through the muddy night
unnoticed and blight
as the bitterroot bloomed
there, on the harsh dessert floor;
the bright pink flower settled
in this unforgiving land.
with sour stems and poisoned marrow
the flush rose buds unfolded
their brilliant hues.


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