Sunday, March 15, 2009


Cover her face
let her lie in peace.
When she sleeps let her sleep be
undisturbed by
the lure of memory
or the pull of those ties that
held her to this earth.
If she walks let her walk
unbound by the shadow
of her mourners’ callous tears.

Strew the path to her grave with
rosebuds and lilies,
the endless anticipation
of forsythia.
Lay for her a bed of irony,
lady's mantle, morning glory,
the vanity of narcissus.

Cover her face with mulberry silk
leave her to lie in peace.
When she rises let her rise
unfettered by the promise of an apple seed,
unmoved by the anxiety of ants.
Cover her face Requiescat.
Requiescat in pace.

(Image: Antoine-Auguste-Ernest Hebert, Ophelia. One of the most beautiful Ophelias I have seen. The sorrow in Ophelia's eyes is compelling...where can such sorrow lead but to madness?)