There is no stab in my gut,
Only poison absorbing into my skin and through my veins,
No amount of stitches can heal this weeping wound,
Disintegrating my flesh and bones, until only ashes remain.
The wind takes away my ashes,
Taking me in a 1000 directions,
Spreading me throughout the vast Earth,
Through the sky that is merely the ocean’s crying reflection.
Finally my ashes settle to the Earth,
My final resting place,
Where the soil absorbs the soot of my body,
Grimacing at my bitter taste.
I fertilize the hungry soil,
Feeding the seeds of wild flowers,
Preparing them for their birth,
So they shall bloom in April showers.
As the seeds sprout and thrive,
A endless sea of green,
As they blossom and reach for the clear sky,
And finally beautiful, I shall be.