the poet is to write without fear
to release her words into the wild
knowing they are not just hers
I do not wish to hoard my truth
I want to celebrate and sing it from the
ashes of yesterday’s fire
ashes ashes we all fall down
down to the earth, from whence we came
we die and we rise again to sing
in other voices
a truth that's ours to share
just for a moment, nothing more
then we sprinkle the ashes of our past selves
onto the top of the compost pile
tomorrow that compost will nurture the
little fireglow maple I'm planting
will encourage its roots to grow strong and firm
tomorrow, ashes become tree
and one day, that tree will again
become ashes
