The Priest speaks, her hand moves,
‘Remember you are dust, and to dust you will return.’
I linger, pondering,
I am flesh.
The Priest speaks, her hands move,
A Sign of a Cross in ashen grey,
I linger, pondering,
I am flesh.
The Nurse speaks, his hands move,
‘Make him comfortable; his family gathers.’
Delirious, pondering,
I am flesh.
The Nurse speaks, his hands move,
A hand of comfort on my ashen grey skin,
Delirious, pondering,
I am flesh.
The Priest speaks, her hands move,
‘Our days are like grass; we flourish like a flower of the field.’
Silence, decay,
I am flesh.
The Priest speaks, her hands move,
A bow towards the ashen grey coffin,
Silence, decay,
I am flesh.
The King speaks, his hands move,
‘Behold, I make all things new.’
Peaceful awakening,
Out of the Ashes I will rise.
The King speaks, his hands move,
Wiping tears from my eyes.
Peaceful awakening,
Out of the Ashes I will rise.
-Swales
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