In memory of Eddie, who's hooked now in the grid
Trees need to feel our grief,
for the bodies buried in their soil,
their soothing blossoms
some consolation sent to us,
who never understand.
Our tears are like the tides,
their surgings merely love
that feel so much like loss
we tug and tap at others
'til we accept the solace
the branches gently toss,
and slowly start to see
form from the invisible
some words:
Your Mother
will always
remember.
