Sugar Skull, Stories of Death
1
We don't have funerals for the living
No cedar box to lay those tired bones to rest
No quiet urn or shading tomb of granite
Stone angels shed no tears for us
I am dying again
Longing only for respite from the pain
I am not who I was and who I loved is gone
Even now as the earth is freshly turned
a part of me is mourning
Place a sugar skull in my coffin
and board me away for a time
I am breathing euology
She who lies here...
She who loved him...
The earth is new and full of oxygen
Underneath the dandelions is a corpse's breath,
fertilizing the soil with heart sinews, old limbs
and emaciated mistakes
Funerals are not for the living
but always and only for the dead
May the stone angels weep for me nonetheless
I may bare scars of a thousand deaths or more
before I truly meet the grave
2
In the drum circle, though I was only one beat, the sound entire was playing my dirge. I could feel it pulling me away on the dark, flowing river. I let it carry me. And in my soul, a part of me danced. And in my soul, a part drew swords. And in my soul, a part looked on, saying the words of ritual. Warrior, dancer and priest, all within- not collision but unison. All standing in the boat, moving upriver to a different shore. A time to dance, to fight, to pray, and time enough to decide which is which. These are not new things, but awakened again in death. Only after the ending of a thousand voices can you hear the ones that consistently ring true. The dirge plays on, drum after drum, and I wing along the sound. The three of me set down on an alien shore. Wind, like fingers, pushing me gently forward. With sand underfoot, wondering what's next- what happens after you die, and continue on.
3
A catrina found me on the train
Dim lights shook and rattled along with the tracks
At first glance, she was a young woman
Leather jacket, trim cocked,
long legs folded into a comfortable slouch
She was tall and curved and quiet
I thought nothing of her
Watched her dark hair piled high,
the tendrils rioting carelessly onto her shoulders
The train swerved and I caught myself against the window
Glancing, I saw her reflection
and a skull looked back at me
Startled,
I watched her smile curve as she caught my eye
Her lips were a lush blood red
Quite suddenly
I wanted to slow dance with her in the rain
Feel her cheekbone brush against mine
Her breath in my face,
the smell of roses just beginning to brown
I wanted her bloody lips on my lips
I wanted her
She smiled at me through the window,
still and quiet
A kiss of death waiting for the train to stop
We don't have funerals for the living
No cedar box to lay those tired bones to rest
No quiet urn or shading tomb of granite
Stone angels shed no tears for us
I am dying again
Longing only for respite from the pain
I am not who I was and who I loved is gone
Even now as the earth is freshly turned
a part of me is mourning
Place a sugar skull in my coffin
and board me away for a time
I am breathing euology
She who lies here...
She who loved him...
The earth is new and full of oxygen
Underneath the dandelions is a corpse's breath,
fertilizing the soil with heart sinews, old limbs
and emaciated mistakes
Funerals are not for the living
but always and only for the dead
May the stone angels weep for me nonetheless
I may bare scars of a thousand deaths or more
before I truly meet the grave
2
In the drum circle, though I was only one beat, the sound entire was playing my dirge. I could feel it pulling me away on the dark, flowing river. I let it carry me. And in my soul, a part of me danced. And in my soul, a part drew swords. And in my soul, a part looked on, saying the words of ritual. Warrior, dancer and priest, all within- not collision but unison. All standing in the boat, moving upriver to a different shore. A time to dance, to fight, to pray, and time enough to decide which is which. These are not new things, but awakened again in death. Only after the ending of a thousand voices can you hear the ones that consistently ring true. The dirge plays on, drum after drum, and I wing along the sound. The three of me set down on an alien shore. Wind, like fingers, pushing me gently forward. With sand underfoot, wondering what's next- what happens after you die, and continue on.
3
A catrina found me on the train
Dim lights shook and rattled along with the tracks
At first glance, she was a young woman
Leather jacket, trim cocked,
long legs folded into a comfortable slouch
She was tall and curved and quiet
I thought nothing of her
Watched her dark hair piled high,
the tendrils rioting carelessly onto her shoulders
The train swerved and I caught myself against the window
Glancing, I saw her reflection
and a skull looked back at me
Startled,
I watched her smile curve as she caught my eye
Her lips were a lush blood red
Quite suddenly
I wanted to slow dance with her in the rain
Feel her cheekbone brush against mine
Her breath in my face,
the smell of roses just beginning to brown
I wanted her bloody lips on my lips
I wanted her
She smiled at me through the window,
still and quiet
A kiss of death waiting for the train to stop
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