Soul to Soil

We planted Granny in the ground, with hemlock blooms upon the mound,

My mother and her sisters seven gathered in a ring of joy.

Nestled in the grip of autumn, mist bejewelling this strange mortem,

By the moonlight I saw it all, all that nature can destroy-

The sour cream of moonlight pools in all that nature must destroy-

I saw it all though just a boy.

For years that wizened kiss so feared, away from her my father steered

His only son who saw a corpse still breathing in a bedsheet shroud.

The rank musk no rose could smother, the coos and croons of my mother

As she coaxed me to come closer, closer to the disavowed-

A mother's love abandoned to the longing of the disavowed-

Love betrayed yet acting proud.

Beneath the runes of archaic gods, sprouting from damp mildewed sods,

Upon the parchment of the tombstone the inscription gathers rust:

Here lies Eliza Cabot Hale, black of hair and complexion pale,

Through the dark her soul departed, departed as all souls must-

Merging with the endless darkness just as all departing souls must-

Servant to her master's trust.