title: the praise we sign for the broken bones
praise me not when i a m n o m o r e
on this planet to carry the weight
of your praise atop my twig-like
s h o u l d e r s.
when i a m n o m o r e, search not
from the wilderness of my eyes
the remains of my salty tears of
s o l i t u d e.
you're free to l o v e — or h a t e —
m e
o n l y while
i a m s t i l l, on this earth,
b r e a t h i n g
& delving into the bountiful universe
of our SUPREME CREATOR.
but when i become n o m o r e
than this piece
of history, that artifact — m y l o n e l y
w o r d s will use their searchlight to
look for you & say,
when you meet them,
“shed not for him your tears
of bitterness-in-disguise
for you didn't care a great deal
about him during his sojourn
here!”