The Dead Things - Paul J Howell

I will not dress

The dead things of my life

Each day waking

And clothing

The bones of my past

As if this empty bleached frame

Still had a breath

A heartbeat

A dance

A lesson to teach

I have carried

These ancient bones

These hard

Shaping things

Inside my heart

Long enough

They have pierced

the fierce edges of my soul

And in their cutting they

Have carved a mysterious path

Along which

The terrifying beauty

Of many a strange world

Flows

In and out

Now the velvet earth calls them home

Ash and dust their destiny

They return

Only the flow remains

 

I will not dress

The dead things today

Instead I will

Place a stone

A feather

A prayer

To remind me of when they died

And where they lay

Maybe someday passing by

I’ll remember

Bow and smile