Friday, November 1, 2019

Death of the Old Self

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

Photo of Clay Vessel in Garden by Michael & Christa Richert
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.
* * * 

No comments:

Post a Comment