Marker

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.