the farm

the farm

six feet long six feet deep planted the seed of eternity
no smell taste nor touch to test the viability of the soil
at what price never cheap joining in death’s fraternity
even as the memories clutch still onto this vale of toil
a single crop has been sown in the dank silent ground
days fly decades pass unnoticed the dry ghosts patient
a time to harvest the bones seeing if god can be found
nestled in by a mother doted as beings once sentient
the flowers are in full bloom a somber subtle bouquet
leaning against the headstone a name not yet carved
leaves sticks and mud loom masking a scent of decay
iron toed boots strike bone desperate vultures starved
the farm has lain barren fallow through many seasons
the watching faces grow sallow for unknown reasons