Its June. (I Am Tired of Being Brave.)

Do they know

The fate they've come to

Barefooted and pale

Beneath mountains of dirt.

A fate one takes

Unescapable

Leaving you drowning

Drowning

Drowning

Behind worms and rotting flesh.

To step on one

Is a dishonour to the dead

But not half of the dead

Died an honourable death.

They all lie underneath the mud

It's started to rain

Mold and rust cover their names

It's been years since I saw them.

The gate creaks lowly

The pavement is wet

I can't help but watch.

It's June

I am tired of being brave.


(*title and poem inspired by The Truth The Dead Know by Anne Sexton)


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