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About This Poem
Ashes to Ashes
From ashes
she rises,
absolving
cleansing,
face, hands, feet.
Four months,
Ten days,
She mourns.
She weeps.
She clothes herself now
in an adornment of white
bowing privately,
praying fervently,
as bitter fumes
of acetone
seep beneath the door.
Her source is god.
Her destination is god.
She pleads with god now
for peace
As men mix and pour
A holocaust
Just outside her door.
Her sisters wail.
They bathe her lifeless arms
And shroud her
as Iris Albicans-
Exotic,
Fragile,
Pure.
The imam, he stands,
Praying silently
As men convey her
towards Mecca.
From ashes to ashes
And dust to dust.
From ashes to ashes
And dust to dust.
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