Blinded by shimmering
tree-laden soil, I flew away:
to grieve. Grief, my savior,
my destiny away from here
took hold (I, possessed)
and taught me to sing.
I woke each settling day
to dance. I ran and stood for
what I thought love was (mere
grain of wheat, unblessed).
Perhaps (to some) a seed,
I lived and loved wind.
Forgot far-away loves
and purer things, asked
the new dawn for beauty
(what is it, would heed
my lust, would grant kind
words beyond the sieve
of death, would surely mask
and drug my sleeping duty?).
And I, newly lightened
can no longer rise
the same, cannot seek.
I stand greenly upright,
but my bud is closed.
My petals are black.
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