Sometimes I wonder, Virginia,
why you told me the
things inside me are transient,
that all bodies
are drawn
to the dark soil.
It fills my belly as it filled hers,
its testament
to misunderstanding
and the witness
of historic unraveling.

Bade me
put rocks in my pockets.

Lift me to the
arched back of history,
consumed lovingly by human
ignorance
and the strife
we set in front of ourselves.

Really, I know,
she was a raven
with claws out
warning me of the coming storm.