godspeed

violence,
in sky
awake
by heartbeat
of sod
trembling to
sleep;
what solace
awaits their
nightmares
too patient
to listen,
too loving
to care
where or why
it happened

breaks,
the ground
feels
cold
despite
constant pressure
to live
by them above
its infinite
grave

them,
who know
pain
knew its roots
rain deep
ever adoring
its sharp-
subtle alarm
forsaking
their solace
of sleep

who,
or what
existentially
equal
with why
these pitiful
trees
host funerals
for leaves
that die
with seasons
too young
to notice
the shrill
impatient,
deceitful
days
sear nights
requited
rest

breath,
peace
asthma only
holds
to breathless
hopes of life

its only pain
~Deus fortuno