the illusion

your turban wrapped tight on your head

staying off the cold air you were newly exposed

bringing weakness to frail hands and slight bird bones


you were majestic in your presence

as an Arab king in the heat of his desert land

you were queen of peaceful paths

accepting your time in its limited form

knowing that was all illusion



when the great light falls below

sinking slowly into the hour past hands

she shines her golden glow upon all

surrounding in witness of her end

cast in this elemental energy

she bestows upon her onlookers

an idea of how beautiful

can be the end

not always tragic explosion

nor walk of suffering

but sometimes

a graceful dance

spinning into the night

wound tight in gold


sound of dread


through the dark

I knew


at that whisper of night

nothing good

can come from that noise

and in each fateful trill

the noise itself would

break my will

mid day sun

afternoon breeze

evening hour still

anytime a ring a-rang

I knew it could be news


you were gone


to walk away

and leave behind

what tried to bury you

tossing dry soil

high above

hoping for heavy landing

on crown’s diamond inset

dirtying in dire straits

all ideas of you

as dead man walking

you rise from that

six foot hole

turning your back

on the shovel barriers

and in confidence know

you’re not one for caskets

and cemeteries


spread your ashes in the wind

you fly free