Forever in Our Hearts

Throughout her final days

The crows came

To measure the size of her scars

“She will be perfect”, they whispered

“She will be beautiful”, they cried

Her face was the rainbow they’d been searching for

Yellow, blue, purple. Then she died.

All dressed in black. The crows crowded in a circle around her coffin

And threw roses at her feet

Oh how her name would taste sweet

They sold her story for money and movements

Stitched wings to her back

Wrote thank you on her plaque

Earth begged for a martyr

And they convinced her that if she gave her life it might mean something

I wish I could protect her

The crows still echo her obituary

Who ever heard of a eulogy not written into a love song?

She is the young body they grow their flowers on

Before she died, she told me,

“At least this way, I’ll always be loved.” 

–Fabienne de Cartier