Eternally

Cycles of life and death and becoming part of a larger story

Apologies in advance; I’m about to get morbid. This is different from my Valentine's Day post. Although, you could call it looking inward.

You see, I’ve been reflecting on life’s beauty and eventual end. Let me explain the intense experiences sparking this reflection:

—my mother-in-law’s brave struggle against relentless pain and cancer

—my sister’s fight with dementia as she slowly loses her defining memories

—my 11-year-old black Labrador Retriever’s stiff gait as her arthritic joints curtail our long, rambling walks

—the subtle (and not-so-subtle) changes in my body as I embrace the challenges of aging

Inspired by these thoughts, I penned two personal poems with visions of my existence after death.

I find peace within these visions. Just like the cosmological wonders that grace the sky and the majestic trees that stand tall around us, I, too, will remain part of the universe after death, nourishing it and joining a much grander story that connects us all.

---

Reincarnate

Upon the pyre, her body breaks and yields,
consumed by flames that take without remorse;
the oxygen ignites, a burning ghost,
the carbon lifts in wide, reverberant arcs,
each atom carrying what breath once was.

Her wholeness, gone, now enters into air,
the nitrogen unwinds in sheets of gas,
the calcium falls, white dust beneath the sun,
the phosphorus persists, a low-lit promise,
dispersed in soil where roots push through the dark.

In time she moves inside the rivers, rain,
drawn up by green things reaching hard for light,
her atoms threading through the pulse of life,
the animals that drink, the plants that grip,
all bound together, lost in what binds them.

Her past blooms into nourishment for many,
the babies breathing in what once was her,
the years turning as years insist on turning,
in children’s laughter, something of her mouth,
though memory dissolves the way shores do.

Will anyone know her heart, her dreaming weight?
Will they inherit shades of her despair?
They will not see the raven that she tracked,
nor hold the vastness of the void she knew,
yet in their marrow, she moves, she persists.

Perhaps, at the far rim of knowing, briefly,
infinity cracks open as they cross
from living’s side into the dark’s receiving;
at that threshold, something finally opens,
her scattered atoms pulling back to center.

Converging, they rebuild a kind of wholeness,
the déjà vu that surfaces, then slips,
in time’s enormity she finds returning,
a permanence that rose from stellar burning,
in life’s long turn, she does not disappear.

Renewal

Bury my ashes underground,
where the woods let in light
the way old houses do—unevenly,
through gaps nobody planned.

Earthworms turning their slow, pink work.
Roots that don’t ask
what they’re given.

Let me go into the white oaks
and the maples, going gold
the way only maples do,
that particular violence of October.
Into the wild cherries, blossoming
whether anyone watches or not.

I want to be used.

That’s the word for it. Used.
Not mourned in a box
or held back
behind glass.

Let the ferns take what they need.
The moss. The beetle
navigating its small catastrophe
through the leaf litter.

In time—and time is patient
in a way I never was—
something of me will move
through bark, up into the long arms
of trees that don’t know my name
and don’t need to.

I’ll be in the crack and shift of branches.
The creak a trunk makes
when wind leans into it hard.

Not a ghost. Not an echo.
Just matter,
rearranged,
still doing something.

Author’s Note

• My award-winning book of poetry and prose, The Edges, is available in digital and paperback formats at Amazon, Barnes & Noble, Apple Books, Google Play, IngramSpark, and Kobo.

Upcoming…

• February’s writing prompt:

  One Hundred-Word Wonders, 19 February 2025

  For those who want a head start, this month’s prompt is PARDON. Write in exactly 100 words, a story, poem, or creative non-fiction in any genre, using the prompt. Pieces should be exactly 100 words, no more or less. The 100-word count does not include the title. Hold your piece until the 19th!

Immigrant Dreams is Here—Be Part of the Experience!

Immigrant Dreams, a collection of 33 poems celebrating the resilience and hope of those who dare to dream beyond borders, is now available in digital, paperback, and hardcover formats.

Order Now!

Amazon | Barnes & Noble | Kobo | Apple | Tolino | Vivlio | Smashwords | Fable | Palace Marketplace | Everand | Tertulia | IngramSpark | Google Play

• Details and information on signed and free copies are available here.

Thanks very much for reading, subscribing, and sharing the stories, poetry, and essays in this space. If you like a story, poem, or essay please click on the heart. Also if you are so moved, please leave a comment.