Gnarled
fingers reaching - a blind stretch,
A
silent and futile gesture.
Sounds
dismissed as shakes and groans,
A
language lost to the stars.
In
his death we find heat,
A
sentinel naked in the cold.
Bodies
celebrated in crafts and technicolour,
A
life forgotten.
Windswept
and unsuspecting - beauty is defined,
An
awesome power wrecked before its time.
Provider,
bent with fruit for so many,
A
slave in plain sight.
His
breath is ours,
Our
love, his scars.
No
fear, steady in the night,
His
presence is comfort - a shelter.
Oh
so grounded yet carried away,
Our
greed makes him a necessary loss.
To
live in his shadow is a blessing,
Sunlight
never wasted.
Persecuted
to the last,
A
shout pervades in the valley of death.
Let's
hope he isn't lost forever,
Quick!
Touch him!
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