For Ashveen

She ran to flee her ground
She paced herself, she wandered around the
byways and faires of our surroundings.
(but) She would never walk
She picked a flower from the side
of the road and ran home.

Some time, later on,
After the hours when flowers on the road
gave her the world, she fell
And when she fell—
            (of course she fell)
            the ground cradled her
            a mother, its sounds
Her footing lost, she let herself down
She fled herself:
            it hurt her, she pushed
            her hands against it
            and her life pushed back
And the ground--
She’s gone--
The ground--
She must have filled herself
            with its hands
                        gathered its songs
                                    and gone.