Split Death/ Life moment

spent too much time
in the garden
of disillusionment
when weeds
and thorns
dredged up scorn
from beyond
the mystic
barrier.

we were
forced to
carry her
like a chariot
like charcoal
smudged on
the corpses
of the past
no coins
or shrouds
just the maddening crowd
and the endless
rows of judging eyes
and their weakness
and the moaning
of their lies.