I am not convinced by those who embrace
A fiery end, gray ashes, and an urn.
A fiery end, gray ashes, and an urn.
Some find the
licking flames a restful place
To lay their body
in, and choose to burn.
I have a terror of
those flames. I feel
The coolness of the
earth a better choice.
Earth to earth, they
murmur, and soil to soil.
Buried blood has
sometimes had a voice.
Heaving waves have
stolen many a corpse,
And many a willing
body has leapt
To float and then
descend beneath the oars.
And with Ophelia
wash their way to death.
Why drown? Why burn?
Why suffocate in dirt?
I’ve changed my
mind – I want to die in air.
The wind will loose
my linen winding shirt
And swirl its tender
fingers through my hair.
July 11, 2026
Bayboro, NC
