My head is underground
having its gray crystal day
knowing where a dark
is left on for all
the seeking.  I can only stay
behind some holiness
and think of all those whose
forgiving hands I feel,
my ears close to the mycorrhizae
loving time.  Even I came down here
looking for the kiss I wanted
and instead found the crying
stone that smelled me in its sleep,
I wanted to be known. 
You who have suffered, I dig
my bones for you:  scrawled
on calcium language a hard-
ness so gentle it eats rain
night after night so you don’t
have to.  You have my blessing. 
Just bring a firefly beauty to my
face sometime so I know
you were thinking of me.

– Lindsey Warren