As she was buried, so to speak, so was a seed.
So deep and so flourished a darkening need,
And so, like a weed, it grew up, out, and deep.
And such as it goes, up was not very long lasting,
Up was God's gardener, breaking light over casts,
Stealing stems barely grown, giving no understanding.
So, like a weed, the seed holding fast, needed out.
Growing blackened and wiry, dirty with doubt,
Nearly doubling in size, thin as ice in a cloud.
And such as it is, this tedious game:
Do not grow up, being plucked is a shame!
Who can know, just so, just how a seed grows,
Without an ice pick to sep'rate weed from home?
Do not grow up, they know not where you're from.
Stay deep, deep down, frozen in mud.
Growing slowly, stay lowly, and no body will care.
Take root in the warmth, such as it is,
That the heart of the matter, so to speak, is
Her memory is spread, buried, ever within me.