Banyan Thorns - Her Hands In Loam (feat. Mournsap)

She knelt down by the orchard’s edge, Her fingers black with earth, Planting roots where silence bled, Where sorrow gave its birth. Her hands in loam, her prayers in stone, The soil remembers, it takes its own. Every tear becomes a seed, Every loss becomes the reed. She spoke no words, the ground was near, Her breath was soft, her voice unclear. But the ivy knew, the moss, the rain They carried off her tender pain. Her hands in loam, her prayers in stone, The soil remembers, it takes its own. Every root will break the bone, Every death will find a home. Loam receives. Roots believe. Tears to soil. The earth is fed. The orchard blooms with blossoms pale, Her grief now carried on the gale. I taste her love in every fruit, Her sorrow buried with the roots. Her hands in loam, her prayers in stone, The soil remembers, it takes its own. Every wound becomes the seed, Every death becomes the reed.