Message in a bottle

When I was infected,

I cupped my hands around my terror, lips toward the earth, spine toward the heavens,

and my knees tucked into my heart, spores feasting on my mind.

Estranged from everything

I once believed,

Where do we go when grief invades

every room in my temple?

Nothing is more solitary

than the sound of your own groaning.

Where do all these tears go, the ones not visible to others ?

Each tear is communication.

Each one falls carrying a letter, and together

they spell out a message.

A message in a bottle.

I know Someone is reading it as they fall.