Song of the Sea (Inspired by Bubo)

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Song of the Sea

 

 

 

After my last sighs drift away and you fail to see my brown eyelashes quiver as the angels of daylight sprawl and stretch gently across the mist.

 

After my papercut hand falls by the flowers, which I do not know by the name, of white and yellow sweet smelling petals  you placed below my pillow.

 

After my mind bids goodnight and my heart complies, gradually slowing down, the crimson it impels resting in my vessels, congealing, the chill budding in the fabric of my skin.

 

After my spirit breathes to the surface and I become a foreigner without a voice or eyes that frown, smile, and talk or a heated tangible skin.

 

As I lay in my bed, appearing yet similar to those who are living, the long curls of light hair falling about my tranquil features, the sleeves of my pure white cloth slightly loose around one shoulder, and my cool summer sheets twisted and warped between my uncovered legs.

 

Do not scream or weep too loud, for I will still hear every murmur. Do not undress me or enfold me in neat cerement. Do not bury me in a constricted wooden coffin. I fear the dark and I dread the wretchedness of the earth underneath.

 

Carry me quietly to the shore.

Leave me on the sun freckled moist sand.

Near the seashells and pretty-shaped smoothed pebbles.

Where the sea speckled with bitter salt tickles my toes and makes me giggle, even when I look asleep on the surface, as the tips of my fingers slowly cease and crumple into dust.

 

Do not weep for too long.

Do not say I have died.

Do not bury me.

For I shall be someday kindly awaken by the singing of the sea, slowly approaching to whisper to m y essence and retreating back to await my unhurried reincarnation. 

 

Author's Note

I appreciate comments and corrections. Thanks for taking a look.

*Image by: *DemonMathiel
*Link: http://browse.deviantart.com/?qh=§ion=&q=pure+blue+sea#/d21k0lo

Reviews

[Geralyn Miller]

YES! While I have no fears of dark or burial, I always thought it was a waste to bury an empty package, for this body will no longer be the holder of my spirit, it is so much worthless dross to be discarded.
Have you ever heard the Hopi prayer: When you awaken in the morning hush, I am the swift, uplifting rush of quiet birds in circled flight. I am the soft stars that shine at night. Do not stand at my grave and cry. I am not there. I did not die."
Your poem is so beautiful and speaks to me in so many ways.

[Norma M Sutton]

This is lovely. Check the word burry . . . I think it only needs one r.

[Kelsie Eileen Stark]

Beautiful and lovely.....Simply wonderous!