Death Watch

After my mother died,
I took comfort in dry leaves
turning to duff on the forest floor.
She loved the sea, but I
couldn't go there to spread
what was left of her. I
lowered the last ashes 
into the river,
trusting the current 
to take her where she
most wanted to be.

After my friend died,
it took her weeks to die and I 
sat with her through it all,
no one wanted
her remains.
I spread them
beneath her roses,
and some I tossed into the air
of my own garden,
hoping for blessing,
like Galadriel's dust.

Where do you scatter the ashes
of a nation?

February 6, 2025

 

Outside my window, a cardinal
sings his glad spring song while
democracy crashes.
How fortunate is he
not to be
human.

Candles

I posted this a couple of years ago, but after revising it some, I don't know about you, but I need it now.

How brave,
each standing
alone,
stalwart,
fending off the deepening darkness
that presses in, 
and the cold.

Single flames 
flickering,
dancing to 
the rhythm of those
gathered round
longing for light
they cannot
create.

Brave may we now be,
alone
or together, 
welcoming
the Light,
passing on the warmth
bestowed 
in these dark times,
and cold.