by Ande Finley

Such a small box
to hold
the tall, solid bulk of you
bones and skin
your unbeating heart
conjured into fine gray ash
we sang a little

about flying and angels
we spoke singing words
about the sea
we prayed our quiet grief
before we made it your home
again, then
it was time

for gentle hands
to cradle dust
into dark water
briny with tears
we poured you
into the eager current
a thousand thousand grains
dancing a trail to
the dreamless ocean
till finally

we could let joy
arcing through salty wind
carry our gifts
blood red carnations
purple-hearted clematis, sweet bells
blue as the mirror of water and sky
and for a long time after

we followed your journey
beneath the shining bay
beneath the tide of flowers
a stream of light, a last memory of gardens

©Ande Finley