Grief

Album cover art for "Grief" by Michael Lee

Michael Lee - Non-Music, Poetry (Literature)

Grief

2 Plays

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Lyrics

The word settled inside the torso of a widow. When it was removed it was buried in the dirt, and sprouted. In Winter knives bloomed, each taken down and struck over an anvil and reworked into cowbells, and lockets, steel yokes the color of yarrow. The word was broken down, and studied, and what was learned was only the ways in which it returns. Each knife buried, and each knife bloomed. Grief is its own season. I am a descendant of these traditions. I am a scholar of the word, of the extra bone, and the silent knife in the side. In my past life, I was a single crow perched on a branch of a grief tree surveying the rain, and it's easy cleansing metaphor. In this life I have been the orchard keeper, tending each winding tendril, naming and sharpening each leaf and in my next one I suppose I'll be the orchard itself, or the hard rain fastening shut the earth.

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Credits

Writers
  • Michael Lee