Banyan Thorns - Roots In My Ribcage

bury me face-down so I can whisper to the worms I was always meant to rot, not return there’s no resurrection here— only renewal the kind that splits your chest and plants something cruel I braided my grief into garlands for ghosts and drank from a cup no living should toast if I sang it aloud, the forest would hush the trees would lean in the mushrooms would blush but I keep it unspoken too holy to sing a psalm for the dying that doesn’t need wings I am not healing I am becoming compost