May you sprout flowers
When you become an empty cavern
Of bones and human flesh.
Take root in the depth
Of your stomach, crawling along
Like caterpillars dreaming of wings.
Turn to a cool wind
That is an answer to sailors’ prayers
Before you turn to dust and dirt.
Hold your hardened entrails
With feeble hands cupped to offer prayers, as a sacrifice—
May water gently run
Along your torn limbs,
Attached like dead weights
And may the sun shine on you
Once again before you drow
In the seas of my memory.
For the last time,
Upon the hollow artefact that was once you
May dew lather you with olives:
Peace– after the unrest of your existence
In no man’s land between reality
And dreams. For the last time,
For the love of life, may you be scalded by the fires
Of the hell that you left behind
For me to burn in. I hate you.
This is how I remember you.
This is your cremation.