Cut Off

In 2016, I was re-grafted back into the Vine. But 6 years prior, this is what I had written in my diary. Sometimes it takes a longer wrestle than that of Jacob, who got his blessing by sunrise. 
 
....................

A dry and knotted naggy wood
gnawed at by a pesky termite
 
My pulse is fleeting, spreading the sting of poison down the canals of my cement block wrists, almost as heavy as my sunken heart
 
Lifeless sawdust hits clay moist and welcoming
Once I am no longer standing, the tunnels that my roots once filled hosting the winds that occupy vacant cavities, 
I hope the clay will feed my spirit
Stagnant loam is better than a fruitless faggot
 
When was I sawn from my Vine?
The event seems to have passed me unawares;
No distinct ceremony comes to my recollection
Yet, shrivelled and leathered lay I here---
 
Exposed to the elements without shade
I rot among the deaf parasites,
Rot from the inside out
Soon I will be a dry old bone
 
Feed me to the crows who knocked on my window 
Tapping againgst my fears that day
 
No, you can't
It's too late, for there's no flesh left
Just the skeleton of an orphaned mutt
Strung out to be devoured by carnivorous dogs