Friday, October 15, 2010

An Urn of Ashes

It is an ornate and

heavy urn of bronze

shaped like a lota of water

its handles carved, and arching.

A heap of grey ashes

lies within, sanctified

hallowed remains.

The ashes seem heavy as lead

I lug them on my back

around my neck

everywhere I go.

Nourish them,

cherish them, they are

but metamorphosed forms

of the words you said, the smiles

you looked, and the red flame

of my heart before it was taught to turn to stone.

Waiting, hoping, for the phoenix to rise again

The leaden dread that I wait and carry in vain.


4 comments:

Rhett said...

nice poem well writ

Adelaide Dupont said...

I also enjoy Urn in a way I never expected I would.

Very reminiscent of Keats, isn't it?

And I especially enjoy: "Nourish them/cherish them". Those words live in a way abstract verbs usually don't!

tikulicious said...

Lovely Verse. I enjoyed reading it.

ABHIVYAKTI said...

beautiful selection of thoughts and words