It occurs to me that a threshold
is essential for crossing over
leaving one place, entering another.
A transference or transcendence
if done intentionally
the past stays outside.
It occurs to me rather suddenly,
despite making plans and beds,
tucking corners and ducking blows,
this was all about some body,
a place to rest
and what to do with what remains.
I have reconsidered
that it may be the most selfless thing
to be buried in a plot, or swallowed by a sinkhole,
instead of scattered
to sea, disbursed widely
without
a mark(er), a fold or ripple,
a place
where others can go
to meet with Memory.
This is the last thing I can do
for those whom I held the door for,
for those that may be missing and seeking
my presence-
No body
needed more than a place to rest.
Painting By John Singer Sargent [CC0], via Wikimedia Commons, 'Open Doorway, Morroco, c 1879.
Painting By John Singer Sargent [CC0], via Wikimedia Commons, 'Open Doorway, Morroco, c 1879.
