Do not look for me in sunny meadows
or among the flowers, birds, or streams.
Do not listen for my voice in the fields
or in the gardens, woods, or mountaintops.
I am not there anymore.
I am in the cool Earth now
in the moist shadows
in the secret dens of sacred ground.
Tread softy as you approach.
My rigid stone begs for balance
while reaching to the heavens
unaware its feet are buried in the dirt.
The centuries have shifted me
and dragged me with the soil
as if to say, run! Run again!
forgetting that my feet are also buried
deeply in the silent Earth.
|Do not look for me.|