Are You Digging My Grave?

It was a bright and blinding day as I watched the old man toil,
Giving light and air to long forgotten soil.
He shoveled and he smiled, for he was the only one,
Who knew where I was, and I was not alone.
For he was my companion, the only one to see,
The specter before him, while the apparition was me.

He talked for hours, but I could never reply,
My voice was so silent, I gave nothing but sighs.
For he had known, long before I realized,
The kindest way of knowing, lay hidden in his eyes
I looked to the old man, as he looked my way,
The only statement I could breathe, “Are you digging my grave?”

Another shovel of earth, tossed into the air,
I heard him speaking, but all I could do was stare.
I couldn’t understand the words, although his eyes said it all,
How long had I been there, waiting for that fall?

Oh, my dear friend, how good of you to speak to me,
I once was bound by life, but now I am free.
I don’t know the man, talking with the ghost,
I have never met you before, my unfamiliar host,
White robes and dreams of silence, no I am not enslaved,
I simply ask the old man, “Are you digging my grave?”


The ceaseless noise of existence is now silent to me,
Now I am non-existent, and he is my company.
The light that just comforted, is now my embrace,
And the caress of moonlight always touches my face.
How can I make you understand? I know that I am safe,
Even though I watch you, as you dig my grave.


Sweet dreams my dearly departed, for I am with you now,
Fall gentle curtain, as you drape upon my brow.
For that green-eyed monster has long since gone away,
Now, there’s only silence, every step of that way.
As I walked my journey, with death just steps behind,
I felt that hand of mercy that ended all my time.
So, my dear friend, I can’t hear what you say,
But, I know you’re talking to me, while you dig my grave….


This work is in Girl in the Trees.


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