The Cradle Poem by michael john jackson

She made a cradle
Of her hand,
With burnished stone,
And barren sand.

From her mouth
There fell a seed,
Upon the barren
Earth to bleed.

Salt and water
Drained her eye,
And fell upon
The earth to die.

Where she sat,
Her tears to spill,
Upon the grey
And blackened hill,

Something ached
Beneath the ground,
And far away,
And all around,

A fresh perfection
Filled the air.
Beneath her feet,
The Earth once bare,

Clambered with
A greening wave,
And made a cradle
Of the grave.