poem for dad

i make my shroud, but no one knows
brief on a flying night
and as we walked the grass was faintly stirred
up from the south at break of day
my son is dead and i am going blind
i have come into the desert because my soul is athirst
thoughts through my head
i was a goddess ere the marble found me
melancholy, blue it was
suddenly, out of dark and leafy ways
truely
full of tears