Storied Soil

If I can’t save us
then let me taste the full measure of it
searing my throat
as I swallow deep this life, these tears.
If I can’t save us
then let me see each of us,
though I long to tear myself away,
drinking to the dregs our bitter truth.
If we are dying
then let us know that we have killed,
let us wash in the waters we tainted
and know ourselves to be cleansed.
If we are dying
then may our rot feed the fecundity
of strange new soils
that sing out of love and grief in their blooming.
If this life is ending
then let me begin a new one
flaming from the ashes that coat our tongues
as the stars shiver with the holy terror of hope.
If this life is ending
then let me begin anew as one
who speaks in silenced places
the words that bring being to life.