We counted on our fingers
and buried with our hands.
The line of white still lingers
from the loss of silver bands.

Casting out our demons
and cancelling our plans.
My line of site, your reasons,
and the loss of silver bands.

A home from potter’s earth.
Ironless; formed from dirt.
What we are, not what we were.
What remained after we burned.

A heart within the ground.
Nothing left; buried down.
What was lost cannot be found.
What remains is underground.