Thursday, February 4, 2010

Cremation: Day Seven

If I burn my own heart to ash,
No one will attend the ceremony.

No one helped me cut the twigs,
Form the tepee, cradle the flame,
Blow 'till it caused the organ
To leak blood and expand to explosion.
No one heard the sound it made.

I scoop up the ash obediently
And revel in the feel of so fine a dust.
Even divided, it pulses the same sound.

I stand alone, swaying cliff-side
and blow those ashes to ocean winds.

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