Oh Sickle Oh Scythe…

Image result for hand reaching out of the ground

not even the hem of my cloth can reach you
as anguish drags you darkly into the pit
I can only watch you planted as human seed
whilst thoughts burst as sprouts from your head
rooting you ever tighter in the soil of indignity

how I wish to make you see
how I wish you could know

oh sickle oh scythe—harvest his remains
oh thorn oh bramble—loose his heart

before darkness washes black his days
before the last grains of dirt befall his eyes

Written by Matthew – 2016
© 2016 This Mortal Flesh

 

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19 thoughts on “Oh Sickle Oh Scythe…

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