One does not simply die;
the soul floats among the stars
and reflects itself in their glint.
The soul sits, perched on the crescent of the moon
and echoes in the shadows of the ridges on its face.
The fleeing soul wipes a tear from your cheek
and squeezes your shoulder.
Death takes the soul away from the confining edges of
the sun-filled day.
The soul wanders in the empty darkness among stars,
and is freed
to roam where it pleases.
Close your eyes and feel nothing.
Let the sound of silence sweep over you
and feel the voluptuous hands slip their grip on life.
They burned my body
and spread it over the earth,
and I returned to my beginning.
The dust of me flowed down the hills,
And out to the rivers.
It sinks to the sleepy bottoms,
adding to the layers of earth,
and continues to flow
through the oceans and rivers of this planet.
I am the particles of dust in the wind,
the ground beneath your feet.
I am the minerals which nourish the plants,
which in turn nourish you.
I am with you always.
I am a part of you.
* ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ *
Written in memory of John Dayton Willard IV
Posted in remembrance and honor of all of those who have fought and died in defense of human rights… they are always with us — International Human Rights Day, December 10, 2012
By: Emily A. Willard (c) 2012