A break in my life where I finally felt free from the thousand bullets ravaging my skin
A haven where I could escape from the malevolence plaguing this world - the inner torment, the imprisonment
A calling to a ceremonial chain of gatherings, each appropriate for the season
You brought all of these presents to me
But now they're all gone just as quickly as they arrived
I tried to resuscitate you back into the present existence
But every time I spoke of you, your students would change the subject
I reckon with the thought of your disposability
As if the children whom you mother pigs nursed, fed, and led to social and spiritual fulfillment
Didn't really need you in particular after all
I wish the butchers let us say a proper goodbye
Just like how a swine lives frolicking about the pen
Teaching its piglets the laws of the land
And hears the distant shout of the ruler
But not paying mind to anything other than the needs of her litter
You've taught me to live with a golden heart
So I'll sit on my couch, and you'll sit on yours that you'll still have, and the pig will sit on hers in her rightful place in Heaven
Still mourning the loss of tradition, but depositing our experiences to the light on my windowsill