Posted by: writingwitch2013 | May 21, 2015

Burden. VisDare 98




Now that I am dead,
do not look for me at a grave
I am not there, I died.
In that grave is only a shell,
a body I borrowed for my time on earth.
I am not in the next room.
Do not look for me there.
that is someone else’s poem.

If you know me at all
you will look for me
in the leaves that rustle on the trees,
in the birds singing and soaring,
in the waves that rush upon the shore,
or the water that falls over into a river.

If you look for me in a cemetery
you will not find me there,
and I will know you did not understand me.
If you find me on the breeze at the top of a hill,
in the quiet of the forest, or the green of the daisy field
then I will whisper to you.

150 words

I wrote this from the prompt, but it sat so well with me, that I will be asking for this to be read at my funeral. I will just add another line or two … Maybe.


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