I.
Into the pot of flame
we burn the cord of life
when it ends
it begins from the earth again
we let go of her being
free her from our neediness
II.
It is May
we dance around the pole
of many color ribbons
over and under each other
weaving as we go
to the music of the songstress
and the tapping of drums
the burning sage
the oil of lavender
roses on the altar
her photos, the old Druidess
with each turn
her long hair flying
each turn
her gray eyes smiling
each turn
she bends her knees
each turn
she dances with bears
III.
Her ashes, fine like white sand
slip through my fingers
onto the ancient stones
they fall, covering blades of grass
and the occasional peek of pink
they spread in the breeze
swirl around me
I feel the sting in my eyes
they land on my black coat and boots
a spray of pixie dust clinging
Tom’s face is streaked with her ashes
little specks on his bushy beard
she fills the grove
we kiss the air
salt I taste on my lips
-Clara Hsu-
-Clara Hsu-
