When the sun is sinking low

the living gather at the river bank.

A widow wails her mantra out and into

the watery grave.

The Moon plays upon the wake of the burning boat

while at the bank mourners chant and dance

their faces obscured by the glow of the fire.

As the pyre disappears beyond the horizon

the young smoke herbs and chew kava

to make it easier to forget.

 

pyre 3

photo by Day Schildkret

40 thoughts on “by fire

  1. A dualistic post as I read the lament of the grave of a lost soul as we say our last farewells, as we watch it from the shore disappear beneath the horizon.. And I also saw the Sun setting in a blaze of glory, as she spread out the last of her rays across the water.. Welcoming home those whose eyes now see a distant shore..

    Beautifully written Holly.. I hope your Sunday is a peaceful one xxx ❤

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