Burial

  

Although I am gone I see you there

so nice how you gathered flowers while I

(below in my coffin)

smiled the mortician’s smile

and watched as each of you

placed a rose upon the lid

before I was lowered into the earth

Now I would rather be placed

in a tree pod

my decomposition 

feeding a fig tree

(remember the one 

on the south side of the house)

you can eat my figs

There is sorrow in that

I would have to die twice

_________________

NaPoWriMo Day 8 — writing from the POV of a dead person.  Photo of an ancient burial urn taken at Muséo Archeologico Regionale Paolo Orsi in Syracuse, Sicily

Burial

Wings

It was the first death I could remember—-my father’s father, my grandfather. It came as a surprise, an aneurysm, as the family sped on the highway trying to get to the hospital. We were too late. I never saw the body.

How could I make sense of death at such a young age?

When we returned home, I picked the butterflies off of the grill of the car. These were dead, their soft bodies smashed, the wings intact. I took those colorful wings to the garden across the street. I sat under the overgrown asparagus in the corner of Laird’s garden and buried the butterflies one by one.

life is a flicker

mind what is most beautiful

pathway to the rest

____________________

dVerse prompt on how nature plays into our lives. This is a haibun about a death and how nature played a role in how I dealt with that death. I was six years old and loved butterflies.

Wings

Burial Urns

The tomb urn is big enough to hold a body. (It is another way to bury the dead in ancient Sicily. We see them in the archeological museum.) I am climbing over an adult-sized one trying not to break it. When I get to the top, the urn falls forward and moves down a small hill. It does not break so my relief is great. A girl comes to help me to move it upright and to set it in a new place. I know this dream is about death. How the burying of the dead has changed since the beginning. Now I can choose my burial in an ecopod much like the urns of Sicily. I will know the falling of the vessel that takes me away. That it is there ready to receive me.

Burial Urns