Jhator

Bundled like a gift

Last burden I, the weight of my vessel

Bares down on the backs of my loved ones

They will carry me up the mountain

And ask nothing in return

As I've carried my own beloved before them

They will thank the birds for who I was

And return to them the flesh I once believed I owned

The messengers crowd eagerly

A knife to expose what was life

Broken bones to end my tale

Bloodied stones, crimson painted payment of alms

Pieces of the vase stripped to strengthen their wing

For the journey skyward of my being

Pound to dust what was once dust again

The breeze will carry me up, nurture the grain

Sun annointed to feed

My next vessel

Now gone, the birds ask for rain.