Death of the Old Self

Once upon a time,

she hitchhiked toward bright,
scampered with Buddhas
& gods
because she didn’t fit in-
                     side
anyone else’s box
                    (or mind).
She drifted like ash,
disembodied thoughts
with nowhere to go
but to the fiery bottom
of burned timber,
           brick,
                     & stone.
Now the dented base
of her metal urn rests
on a mantel
     & she wonders
(how she made that mistake)
     if there’s anyone
else
around
     and how she ever
    allowed herself
to snuff out
her own
               light.

Spill My Ashes in the Garden Instead

For today’s prompt, write a once upon a time poem. The title of the poem could be “Once Upon a Time,” or the first words could be. Or you could do what I did in my attempt below: I pretended the words “once upon a time” preceded the first line of my poem.

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