My name—
Do you spy green sprigs on a hill,
Hiding an underworld beneath?
A barrow of whispers?
Lines of letters, milling
On nametags, on poems, on pedigrees,
Like diplomat zombies?
Then I, the wildfire’s pinpoint spark,
I dim, and I drift among the leaves
As ash in an evening breeze.
A Beornic hermit, I subsist,
Pinewoods-bound, naked
But for fur, growls, claws, fangs, the stink of bear and blood.
“Beloved Father and Husband”;
Entombed in pine, under granite and grass, I break down—
Fabric tongue unraveling,
Losing all but my name.
Judging from my classmates’ reactions, I have over-subtle-ized this and obfuscated my meaning. I didn’t intend that at all. I changed the title to contextualize it a bit better, but you’ll have to let me know if it works. I might just need to add a bunch more stanzas to flesh things out.
Patrick D. Pace 
I do love how you use words to paint but youâre writings sometimes require deeper thought than Iâm able to give.
Thatâs why I canât often read CS Lewis. He is deeper in his writings which is probably part of what made him great (and probably why youâve always liked him since youâre able to go that deep in your thinking.)
So, youâll be great, like CS Lewis or Walt Whitman. J
(I donât even know what obfuscated means but assume it comes from the same root word as obscure)
Youâre very smart, Patrick. Iâm very proud of you.
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Thanks very much.
To be fair, this one is almost impossible to get by itself. No one in my class was even close, and most of them are trained exegetes.
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