And when the earth shall claim your limbs, then shall you truly dance.
Kahlil Gibran

We turned off Highway 395,
parked at Toms Place,
walked past cabins and trailers up a dirt and gravel road
that disappeared into pine forest,
Rock Creek tumbling noisily beside us,
white water somersaulting over rocks,
empowered by last winter’s record snowfall.

In a sense, you were with us,
a large bag heavy with your cremains
as we searched for a secluded spot,
the kind of place we hoped you had in mind
when you wrote down your wishes
in a journal,
and we scattered a few handfuls
on the ground near the creek,
then stepped into a small clearing.

We four took turns speaking lines from a poem
that was shared at your father’s funeral,
then read a few verses from The Prophet,
walked back to the creek bank,
tossed all the ash into the water,
the light gray dust floating for a minute
before the creek embraced you,
gathered you into itself.

 

A retired educator, Nancy Haskett’s work has been seen in more than 40 publications, including Ravens Perch, Poem, Monterey Poetry Review and many more. A collection of her poems, Shadows & Reflections, is now available on Amazon. Nancy enjoys reading, traveling, and spending time with her family in Modesto, CA.