My Wife’s Ashes

Sanibel Island, FL 3/1/21

Reading “My Wife’s Ashes”

first rays race across the peninsula
westward bound
lemon and orange
light without scent
scent without sound
the condos cast upthrust fingers upon the brooding bay
filled with sleeping tourists
-the buildings that is-
not the gentle tumbling waves
of energy and spume
green/blue/black/white
flashes of manatees, dolphins and sharks
all dodging wave runners and speedboats
polyfilament lines spin after the receding night
as dawn fruitlessly chases in the golden chariot of myth
spurred to endless unrequited passion
day after day
settling for dragging people in its wake to the sandy beach
all desperately fleeing work,
pandemics
and
politics
locked down in their thoughts
walking and running and strolling and burning
while the pipers and plovers
scurry for breakfast
little bobbing windup toys cast aside the week
after a bleak
Christmas
as was for so many others
for locked too am I, like them
in dreams
the past that never was
the future that will never be
in the present I turn my face, the sun caressing where once fingers roamed
no more, never more shall it pass
ash plume seized
by the sea breeze
flowing ever outward
diffusing towards the vanishing point
where memory meets endless time that both began
now ended
fifty-seven years prior
farewell beloved, farewell

Today, March 1st is her fifty-seventh birthday. It was a perfect morning, 70 degrees – 21C, a brisk southwest breeze and low tide. I scattered her ashes in the surf and read the poem aloud through my tears.

Scattering ashes

3 thoughts on “My Wife’s Ashes

  1. So poignant and beautiful, Brian. I’m so deeply sorry for your loss. Your writing brought tears to my eyes…it’s such a powerful tribute to the grieving process and everlasting love. Peace be upon you, MW 🙏

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