in autumn I walk through a forest
a cloudless sky and roses at my feet
by a river I am sedate as a sacrificial lamb
a windchime in a tree plays a melody
bones carved in various shapes and sizes
sitting on a mossy branch I smell the earth
I smooth a stone over in my hand imprinted
with a crimson pattern shaped like a crucifix
lighting the candle I hold tightly—
a flock of ravens call into the trees,
"kindness does not condemn"
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