They bury her between lines
Of poetry which will burst into
Flame on full moon nights,
Send up showered sparks;
Red-tipped stars like Pele’s
Fiery passion that melts
September’s sapphire fog,
Leaves salt pools, aloha tears…
They bury her ‘mid surrounding
Stones to protect her soul from
Wandering…flinty spirited rocks,
They sprout wildflower shoots
And bashful blue forget-me-nots.
When next brief summer storm
Breaks cerulean sky, those with
Ears attuned detect voice in
Heaven’s rain-soaked wind:
“Buried, but now she’s Home”.
©Jael Sook, 2017 All rights reserved.
Image: Hawaiian Cemetery, Public Domain
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