Death Nesting - Graveside Lavender

There’s lavender growin’ by the old stone cross, Smells like the quiet after loss. Rain in the soil, iron and clay, I breathe it deep, it keeps me awake. The air’s got weight, the moss got bloom, Lilac and loam and the breath of tombs. My hands know peace better than me, Keepin’ the peace where the silence feeds. Graveside lavender, soft and worn, Bloomin’ where the names are torn. It don’t mean hope, it don’t mean grace, Just a little life left in this place. The shovel’s stained, the handle’s split, Been years since I thought much of it. I light one smoke, I let it burn slow, Standin’ still ‘cause there’s nowhere to go. Graveside lavender, soft and worn, Bloomin’ where the names are torn. It don’t mean hope, it don’t mean grace, Just a little life left in this place. It don’t smell like heaven, don’t smell like sin, Just the mix of death and what’s still livin’. The day folds slow, the ground gives in, And I breathe it all like it’s next of kin. Graveside lavender, soft and worn, Bloomin’ where the grief’s reborn. It don’t heal, but it lets you stay, And breathe a while in the rot and rain.