Redemption's Rake

This cumbersome affliction
Manifested in premature morbidity
Vulnerable like a spring flower
Turning its face to the sunrise
As if in morning prayer
Burning in frosty shame
While bearing the dew
Of unrequited crucifixion

Garnished with vegetative apathy
And ambivalent fruition
This garden of gifted grief
Buries unsubstantiated satisfaction
In its narrow, soiled plots
Waiting for passing days
To uncover these bones
Like so much archaeology

Just like the Autumn leaves
Those promises wither and fall
To decompose in the mulch
Of misinformed misanthropy
While torrents of sweet sweat
Glisten in the sultry, silken air
Circulated and aerated
Through redemption's rake.