GRIEF Poem: Bone Garden, by Amanda Van Eps

I’d dig my own grave before handing over my shovel.
Boxes are no place for rest with walls perpetuating restlessness.
I’d prefer to lay in the grass with sand between my toes and worms in my pockets.
Bodies are designed to break down into brain food.
Scales only balance for those who score even when listing pros and cons.
Timeline’s are unconcerned with plotting the harmonious.
Expectations will take things from you karma never even thought of.
Acceptance returns suffering to the sender.
When absolved what is left to be overcome?

Author: poetryfest

Submit your Poetry to the Festival. Three Options: 1) To post. 2) To have performed by an actor 3) To be made into a film. View all posts by poetryfest