sorrow as a drug? 10/11/19

how good is sorrow as a drug?

put thunder in my bed

and draw down the blanket 

as if made of rumblings.

I want a bitter taste as my pillow,

for me to sleep like recently felled tree.

full trunk, stiff and horizontal.

why have arms just to cover my face

from the woods of friendship gone?

they now look down on me departed.

my roots will give them my eulogy.

I use to chat with the night sky over breeze,

sing seasonal songs with charm and flair,

handle rain with leaf-ladles of dignity and care,

had night vision for creatures that come and go,

reflected on myself as a lighthouse on a sea of land,

was aggressive with the rigor of my stately stance,

yet quick-witted in the privacy with other trees.

saw beyond the rigor of time quite easily.

still thought of myself

as a human in the forrest of living.

so how good is sorrow 

as a drug for me? . . .