Feeling, Being

There is green in this, even yet,
you hear it rise to colour,
sense it weave itself along your bone branches,
ache to know it again. Once.

Life might stir, open out of innermost you.
Difficult breath to draw,
drought dry intake at first, until
you gasp fill the gaps with sweet air.

Skin next, a wish, a coat, proof against rain
against those who would sling stones.
Pull into it, slip it over your cold old bones,
hoist it over a shoulder then the other.

Propose a caution to those who would follow you here.
Wait friend, it doesn’t have to be this way.