When I am gone

cricket

when I am gone

 

 

when I am gone

do not expect signs or miracles

only the unraveling of new leaves

from wintry stems 

seedlings shooting up through the ground   

 

on a hot summer morn remember

how I craved the sun pouring over

streets and houses 

and running down my skin

thick and full like fresh molasses

 

a simple wooden box or cotton cloth

a simple spot in the ground is enough

I go where I was meant to go

don’t bother mourning

carry on my work

 

what you didn’t say to me 

when I was here

don’t bother saying then

 

poem © 2014 by Tommi Avicolli Mecca, drawing © 1976 by Bob Avicolli

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