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Ashes

14 Sep

I still go to call you.
When the door opens
I rise to run to greet you.
So I took your number from the phone
and now just look for it.
I lock the door,
So it can’t open
Unbidden.

We tossed your ashes to the river.
I stood downwind,
Poured them into my hand,
Threw them high.
They flecked across the moon,
They mixed with the new grey in my hair,
Covered my face.
I took a breath
Deep.
Your ashes
Taste of salt.

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1 Comment

Posted by on September 14, 2011 in Family, Poetry, Religion, Social

 

Tags: , , , , , , ,

One response to “Ashes

  1. Sewa Yoleme

    September 14, 2011 at 5:56 PM

    Damn. Someone is slicing onions again.

     

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