rare earth

so much to tend
to when
death pays a visit.
the cost
is great.
arms and legs
fail.
there is a river
that runs
cold up
your spine.
tears are made
of glass. the wind
scratches
at the window.
words fall
empty, like ashes
from your
mouth. sorrow
being holy
ground, you step
lightly
on that strange
rare earth.