Estuary of Flowers

Facing death
I step back from the light
into life’s darkness

The nights
after my death
my wife rocks
herself to sleep
in my favorite chair.

 

On the beach

I want to fly but fall like

a silent prayer.

My limbs are an anchor

as I slip beneath the surface.

Once struggling palms lie flat

as gentle waves rock me.

Seaweed strands of hair mingle

with the sigh of my breath,

I grasp the hands of my

companions,

my only thing of value.

 

Everything beautiful is here,

all that was lost.

Birds chorus to the stones that

mark the  resting place of a

thousand warriors  in repose  in an

estuary of flowers.

 

art by Abel Tasman