winter wheat and bits of men


Men rise and fall like winter wheat…

a wise man said

and I have seen them there
and scattered the ashes
of loved ones on mountain tops

held their pieces

bits of bone and memories of their time in my palm
passing through my fingers with a breath
while a raven circled
at 8000 feet
west of never

spindrift tendrils that dance into forever
pale grey mists of men
spin into the forgotten
between the clouds
into the pale blue immortal
of right here right now

into photos and stolen nights between the men in grey flannel suits
the sisters and sons
the slings and arrows
and the words too bold to say

I love you


This entry was published on August 16, 2013 at 12:39 am. It’s filed under Life, Uncategorized and tagged , , , , , , , , , . Bookmark the permalink. Follow any comments here with the RSS feed for this post.

2 thoughts on “winter wheat and bits of men

  1. It looks like spinning into the forgotten, but I love to consider it becoming one with what’s around us. I want this for me, when my time’s up. I want my daughters to take my ashes somewhere beautiful, where I will cease to be, and become eternal, too, all at once.

    • Taylor Jamieson on said:

      Thank you. and yes, there are many layers. In the Iliad, Achilles had to choose between being the hero of immortal legend…or being loved and one day, in a generation, or maybe two, being forgotten. I have seen too many young heros fall in this life time and wonder who will remember them and their pieces but the wind.

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