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?
