Here’s a poem for Tess Kincaid’s Magpie Tales. Tess puts up very interesting photoprompts. The above and below are my take on this week’s.
You Too
There is that will
in some
that assays a reach
from the grave, that
would pull from raw earth
gems
for barter, that would store
oxidation; that, below
the mine, will still insist, “that’s mine–” those
whose fingers grasp
even as limbs moulder.
And then there are those
who proffer treasure, who, in
their last sighs and beyond, exhale
a gift, their life’s blood like a current
of air a bird
might sail upon, or you too might feel
ruffling your hair beneath
the noon or setting
sun.
These last do not just raise flowers
from their remains, but instead,
a hard brilliance: someday, you too will
pass; someday, you too
will be faceless; someday,
you too will know life
as a stone; catch
light
now.
ManicDDaily 
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