Deep, earthy truths about dirt and regret.
And know something of halting words that flow
In desert rivers that have dried and set
Like misspent hope beneath the desert sun,
As if rivers might cleanse an earthly debt.
When the final words of last sad songs run
Like faltering rivers across this day,
Gravediggers know an ending has begun.
These three Mexican gravediggers won’t say
How desert death encircles birth to grow
Startling blooms in the barren sunbaked clay.
These three Mexican gravediggers won’t show
The ways ice cold embers reclaim their glow.