smoke and mirrors don’t change anything
slanted reflections always portray partial truths
cutting flesh a raven screams
and I want to go into hiding
somewhere with no windows
where my carriage spreads beneath trees
nourishing roots
and is not preserved in
satin-lined extravagance
under cemetery granite
where lights fade slowly
for the sleeping dead
bury me deep
beneath a cold night sky
while friends drum the Earth
that forms my body into place
with the children build a cairn
of smooth Montana river stones
and with each balanced rock
place a memory
a little me
a little you
a little we
a little them
laugh and talk about me
like I’m not even there
spill a little whiskey for my soul
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
In good health, I wrote this piece and have tweaked at it for a few days to post at One Shot Wednesday. Thank you for reading at undercaws.
undercaws 
Brenda – hmm I am picking up on a theme this week ( as I am going backward)
“the overlooked unappreciated for who you are”
a relevant theme for so many
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Indeed we can’t deny the fact that we all go sometime! Smoke and mirrors indeed cannot hide that fact. Your poem dealt with the inevitable in a creative, straightforward, accepting way!
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Lovely last line.
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yes the cairn of stones sounds lovely
the whiskey made me grin
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I just savored this, Brenda. I love the matter-of-fact attitude in the face of death. I think because I am/was a hospice nurse I often write of death, too. It’s one of the compelling subjects of poetry like nature, love etc.
Well done. Almost moved to Montana 20 years ago. Beautiful state. Enjoyed the cairn image that seems to fit the tone of the poem.
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i like this a lot…very unusual but really good…my mother in law wants her ash to be thrown into a river…i like that thought..sometimes even death seems to be somehow artificial and sophisticated..
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I want the whole bottle of whiskey, sipped on a pier overlooking the mighty bay of fundy, where the kids dance and play in the waves, and the adults smile in fond memory while a beach bombfire sends sparks into the sky…whoops! I’m writing my own poem now! Guess you’ve inspired me with this wonderful write! Happy you shared your oneshot! 🙂
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Yes we all do have to go one way or another and heck costs more to die than it does to live sometimes. So I just said burn me and use me for kitty litter, I’m dead, doesn’t hurt my feelings any..haha
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A simple burial, but a profound piece stemming from it…serene yet engaging. Choosing one’s own way to go is certainly a final nicety…”spill a little whiskey for my soul” a strong end note, simple, yet speaking volumes of the soul–a simple man, with simple desires.
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Nice sentiments, so well expressed.
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“while friends drum the Earth
that forms my body into place”
This set of lines really struck me…so peaceful. Definitely no grave stones. Cemetaries are so stagnant.
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My choice? Throw me to the fishes in the deep blue sea…
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love those last couple verses, and that last sentiment particularly!
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Too often death isn’t talked about. Perhaps, fear lingers in one’s mind. Or maybe they’re not sure what the future holds. The choice is made by each of us. Nice write on a difficult subject.
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This poem touched me deeply. It is exactly my sentiments on death and burial.
It’s about death, but more about life. And a very good poem it is!
Hugs,
Lady Nyo
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Thanks for posting this. The ending is very powerful, absolutely love the writing down, the pause then the one line summating line. Well done, I really enjoyed the piece
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Throw me on a bonfire at the foot of the garden, maybe spit a lttle whiskey on to help me burn.
and I want to go into hiding
somewhere with no windows
If you find it, please share.
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If only…it’s been quiet here, but I have a busy few days ahead.
The bonfire sounds good, too. But I bet the smell would be wretched, or worse yet, you’d smell like food. LOL
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I’m planning on mulching the useful plants in my mission garden!
http://www.kimnelsonwrites.com/2011/06/14/letting-go/
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It’s a poem about death – but a statemetn about life. Well done.
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Brenda, this is so good. You have me thinking about many things. I love this line, “cutting flesh a raven screams”. What a vision you’ve created there. You go girl!
Pamela
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Thanks Pamela. It’s always good to get you thinking. I’ve been on a roll, lately. I do have to leave town tomorrow until Saturday…so things will slow down for a few days. I’m still going to try to fit the Friday 55 in, though. 🙂
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doom, death, whiskey….what’s not to like? 😉
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precisely !
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Brenda, i love the last line..a little whiskey for the soul! Nice write!
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Thank you for reading, I appreciate your comments.
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My sentiments exactly–except I want a Viking funeral with lots of burning ship action. I like the way you’ve slipped the stones in a pile visually with your structure at the end, and the whole poem carries a sense of peace.
(I also second the Friday 55 thing–you can write a poem, or anything really, if like me fiction is not your thing.)
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Thanks. A Viking funeral sounds good, too, nothing like fire, and wailing grievers. Or I thought perhaps I could be picked clean by birds. See you Friday.
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Brenda Warren….
You got it goin on Girl!!!
I got a little Whiskey for your Soul.
You need to think about Friday Flash Fiction 55.
A Plot…A central Character…In Exactly 55 words!!
I post every Thursday at 8 PM…
You are officialy invited……Galen
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Thanks for your enthusiastic comment. You got me smiling. I’ll check out the flash, thanks for the invite.
~Brenda
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great read. the last two verses were absolutely gripping. took me back to memories of cemetaries…
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Thanks, I’m glad you liked it.
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nice…love the idea of a fam building a simple cairn…i ask that they bury me in the woods…so to see me they must walk through it…
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yeah, I understand the woods… something of us will linger where we rot… energy, spirit, memory…
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