She scratched and scrambled
Looking for it.
In the dirt.
In the trees.
In the nests of pigeons, tits
And pee-wees.
She climbed mountains on her knees.
Blood and pus oozed
From untended wounds
As she sat in caves
Wondering
Pondering,
Where it could be?

Then fever took her brain
And laid it low,
Hammering it without mercy on the forge of death.
Strange grunts and moans slid down her ears,
From the same source great globs of spit fell
On her arms and from there to the unyielding
Stone of the floor of the cave, now slippery with God knew
What other mess her body had spilled in this face off with Death.

She opened her eyes and swallowed air,
Sweet, cool air, down into her lungs.
Her body trembled as she tried to sit,
And only managed a little bit.
Through the mouth of the cave
She saw rolling pastures
Of a lovely land,
Where rainbows arched across the sky,
And creatures with golden wings
Above this firmament did fly.

The hardened pus on her limbs was black,
And sweat had dried and stuck her robes firmly to her back.
On hands and knees she pulled her fragile frame toward the mouth,
Bare rock ripping scabs from knees leaving a trail of glistening red.
Glimpses of sparkling gold flew past,
As she pushed forth -
Searching for it.