Hollow Branches - The Soil Calls You Home

The doors are gone, The hearth is cold, The Spiral waits beneath the floor. Come in, child of Hollow, And see what we have sown. I walk through the bones of your houses, Rot blooming in the beams, Ash on the mantles, Roots through the rafters, The forest has taken your dreams. No one came to close the eyes, No hand to braid the hair, Only the briar, Only the worm, Only the moss in the chair. The green remembers every name, It swallows stone and skin the same. We bury more than blood in loam, The soil calls you home. I plant my hands in your floorboards, I feel the pulse of the deep, Under the mold, Under the dust, The Spiral coils in sleep. Your laughter is feeding the nettles, Your tears have watered the oak, Every step is a root’s long prayer, Every breath is a smoke. The green remembers every name, It swallows stone and skin the same. We bury more than blood in loam, The soil calls you home. I will not clean the walls of mold, I will not chase the vine, I am here to guide your bones Into the Spiral’s spine. Through every rafter, every room, The green tongue speaks in shade, It sings of life beyond the grave In roots your hands once made. The green remembers every name, It swallows stone and skin the same. We bury more than blood in loam, The soil calls you home. The soil calls you home.