Bound In Life And Death Poem by Eila Mahima Jaipaul

I am ill
the wind blows
and speaks to me of death
the earth howls
angry, lashing out in fits and starts
she is dying, and I can feel it
as sure as I can feel
the cold mist on my face
a haze of taint covers me
in an icy sad grip
resignation fills the shift in mood
the soil sings to me
in a low chant
a death moan
the decay begins to fill me
outdoors holds little peace
I can barely grasp what I feel
its like trying to hold
icicles in a forge fire
I feel as old as
the native burial grounds
with secrets even older
that I forget
what resides in my bosom
I am slipping
but I don't know where to.