Cold, green grass buried under bare feet,
Shivering, squirming to get loose, to be free,
Wiggling up between toes, afraid of being trapped.
Rasping against skin, embedded into the bones
Reclining in the tall weeds, the rags of plant life
Clutching, clinging to their prize, the only one left
That did not escape. The searching finger bones
Grope blindly at the stalks of grass that trapped
And held too tighly onto the delicate fleshy feet,
Pink skin writhing and struggling to once again be free
But what the earth creates is too strong to be left
To rot and die alone untouched by other life,
Another body pulled into the dirt and trapped
To become a part of the unwanted remains of plant life
That was forever imprisoned and never free.
Memories went from dust to dust and left
Behind the faintest trace of the fragile feet
That had plant themselves until the bones
Were all that lingered in the gras, all that was left
Of the struggling humanity that had dragged its feet
Through the soil before it had been tainted with want of life,
With the desire for the sweet redness of trapped
Blood dripping between and through the bones,
Leaving a taste of need that wanted to be free.
And, yet, with longing, that need to be free,
It couldn't be. The wishes and whispers on bones
Should not matter to the weeds where the body left
Scarlet, watery reflections of birth and death and life
As if spring turned to winter then to summer. Trapped
Beneath the glossy white frost and trampled by careless feet
One time too many after a series of sorrows in a life
Where sorrows were many, and happiness wasn't left
For the unworthy skeletons, piles of bones,
Of stones to be used to build hands and feet
For the next generation of people to use to free
Their rotten, melting souls that were still trapped.
What left of the decay, the decomposing life?
Why did the grass hold feet and keep them trapped?
Bones are all that it has; it can never be free.