Death is full of Life
Death is full of Life,
stars shining through the dark of night,
the glint of scales in the sunlight as salmons swim up the river for the last time,
the daisies rising from
my old dog’s grave,
a child tearing out dandelions
and placing the wishes in a ziploc bag,
shadows stretching out toward the sunset,
my living room surging with black,
as mourners converse about how beautiful the service was.
Death is Life, seamless as leaves changing in the season,
or breath leaving lungs,
shifting through different forms to pluck moments away from Existence;
the hawk perched on the telephone line,
a harbinger for the mice weaving through the meadow grass,
the cat trotting off, its belly full of birdsong,
sleep digging the bear past hibernation,
seeding them into the earth like blackberries,
their bodies curled against their mothers once again.
Life unfolds its petals, blooming into Death,
and Death, lets us rest, while the world grows on.
We are memories,
like the stars shining through the dark of night.
Death is full of Life.
*
(Cover art from Teagan White)