A brutal bending of the spine when the truth reveals itself
And we are torn down to our well worn, worshippers weary knees.
The minutes pass. The hours. The long days of tears, blame and turmoil.
The turning back just to turn away again to end up back here.
Back here on this mound, floods turning the dust to thick, brown mud,
My fingers plunged desperately into it's comforting, rough mass.
Yes. This is who I've always been. Uncaring but for the earth.
The earth is fair. It doesn't speak and won't twist the knife deeper.
It doesn't lie intentionally, doesn't hurt you for hurting's sake.
And that, for all of it's flaws, makes it kinder than you, dear heart.
Kinder and quieter. Unchallenging and familiar.
Beautiful and bright and boring by any comparison.
My hair and flesh caked with it's dried and flaking, freshly drawn blood.
I walk naked and aimless away from it's welcoming arms,
Back to your doorstep to bleed some more for pointless, earthly love.