Lazarus

I came back, the wind whistling in my ear, dove on my elbow, crow on my torn cuff, but I could not remember; the long lost year having left the hourglass like the love that sifted through my hands less able now. Dry mouth my only friend and fiercest foe, I wobbled past each flowering branch and bough, neuropathy on fire from sole to toe. Lightning in a bottle lit my way to where the moss was lush upon the stones, and crosses mocked the many shades of grey, the shadows over my skin, skull and bones.