Where The Zanthoxylum Grows Poem by eve Taylor

Through,

a forest darkly,

awaits,

her final days.

——-

A hidden sky,

beneath a thick,

canopy of green,

darkened,

eventually she stumbles,

fumbles,

grasping for a branch,

hoping for a hold,

instantly feeling,

jutting branches and rocks,

knifing though,

leaving her body,

mounded over,

no breath,

only blood escaping out,

pulsing out,

quietly with,

resign,

sighing one last sigh,

tranquility set in,

unleashing her soul,

vanquishing life's,

worldly ways,

x would always mark,

yellowy roses while,

zanthoxylum grows.