Three years ago…
Are ashes ever really dead?
Or just a different form of life?
When you see that I have died,
when you look into that place
where my odd, quirky connections
once melded resonant
and found resonant splendour
in heart…and in hearts too
and you see the ashes, chilled,
overlaying stone cold coals,
become grey overcoats
covering what I finally learned
to be so ashamed of?
Scrape those cinders up
shovel and shoe them,
trowel and trough the grits,
find a yearn to place them in,
decorative and strange,
intricate and engraved
and singing,
like me back then…
and carry that vase back
across the silent square,
and toss my ashes high,
yes toss them in the air
Let them fly across the sky
in one last kiss, then wave goodbye,
and falling, floating, snowing what made
me special and vibey…
I will let go gently…and slip away,
away…
Charissa's Grace Notes 