She was of this world, yet not.
Lying somewhere in the in-between.
The call of the birds in the sky,
the rustle of crimson leaves,
and sensual smell of the soil,
Not enough to draw her back to earth.
Silken water, caressing milky skin,
the perfume of floating petals,
with promise of peace in the darkness,
Not enough to take her under.
Family murmur their words
to coax her back to consciousness.
But she is trapped in her box.
She’s not the first person to be buried alive in her body.
She won’t be the last.
By Sarah ©2017