Soul Moves West Upon Death of Body

“In Abenaki tradition, souls move west upon the death of the body.”

You used to dream, big open spaces and the mountains stretching out forever. The west. Always the west. It was your first love. Where you got married. The ocean, blue expanse, the cliffs and switchbacks, Redwoods reaching high into the sky, daring you to dream as tall and wide as their branches. You wonder if they have Redwood trees in heaven. In this home, you feel free. A small softening that, day by day, has become a chiseling away of your coffin, a coffin you fell into. You’ve been laying there for so long you didn’t realize you weren’t actually dead, the world had just make you feel that way. 

     I don’t dream anymore. All the king’s horses and all the king’s men couldn’t put Queen Aunt Stephy back together  again.

Reveries belong only to you, the poet, who dares dream, who clings to hopes unbidden of ever finding home. 

Portrait credit: Carolyn DeCarlo

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