I never gave my bones
\nmuch thought when I had form,
\nflesh. A frame. Inconsequential.
\nWhen we died, we could join
\nour ancestors, our parents,
\nback and back and back.
\nI do not remember how I died.
\nI know that I did. I was mourned,
\nplaced in deference to cross
\nand return. I watched others,
\nsisters, sink and rise. I do not know
\nwhat I am. <\/p>\n
I was not my body. I was not
\nsimply human. Are any of us?
\nI felt, still feel, the pull Beyond.
\nI cannot tell where or in which
\ndirection. I stay. I remain. <\/p>\n
I loved and was loved
\nby scavengers, dutifully, gratefully,
\nplaying their part. I was not
\nflesh. Some scattered me,
\nmy bones, and I did not follow.
\nI have not felt pain. I was not bone. <\/p>\n
Water rose, and I saw the sun
\nthrough surface ripples. Eons.
\nBeautiful. <\/p>\n
Two bones left\u2014 tibia and fibula.
\nThey are not me. I do not believe. <\/p>\n
The sand and silt cover them,
\nand I hold my watch. Dust.
\nDesiccation. Crystalline sharp
\ntaste of salt. <\/p>\n
Tibia is dust destined, dust borne,
\ndust released. Grateful.
\nI am not tibia. <\/p>\n
Fibula hardens, stubborn. Like me?
\nAll that is left of my body.
\nHere I remain. <\/p>\n
The dead are tourists passing
\nthrough, nodding as they watch
\nand see and whisper and leave.
\nI am alone. <\/p>\n
Fibula browns, imitates a brother,
\nmineral. Am I Fibula?
\nI remain. <\/p>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":"
I never gave my bones much thought when I had form, flesh. A frame. Inconsequential. When we died, we could join our ancestors, our parents, back and back and back. I do not remember how I died. I know that I did. I was mourned,…<\/p>\n","protected":false},"author":1119,"featured_media":0,"comment_status":"open","ping_status":"open","sticky":false,"template":"","format":"standard","meta":{"footnotes":""},"categories":[7],"tags":[],"class_list":["post-100387","post","type-post","status-publish","format-standard","hentry","category-marathon-poem"],"_links":{"self":[{"href":"https:\/\/thepoetrymarathon.com\/blog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/100387","targetHints":{"allow":["GET"]}}],"collection":[{"href":"https:\/\/thepoetrymarathon.com\/blog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts"}],"about":[{"href":"https:\/\/thepoetrymarathon.com\/blog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/types\/post"}],"author":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/thepoetrymarathon.com\/blog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/users\/1119"}],"replies":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/thepoetrymarathon.com\/blog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/comments?post=100387"}],"version-history":[{"count":1,"href":"https:\/\/thepoetrymarathon.com\/blog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/100387\/revisions"}],"predecessor-version":[{"id":100389,"href":"https:\/\/thepoetrymarathon.com\/blog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/100387\/revisions\/100389"}],"wp:attachment":[{"href":"https:\/\/thepoetrymarathon.com\/blog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/media?parent=100387"}],"wp:term":[{"taxonomy":"category","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/thepoetrymarathon.com\/blog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/categories?post=100387"},{"taxonomy":"post_tag","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/thepoetrymarathon.com\/blog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/tags?post=100387"}],"curies":[{"name":"wp","href":"https:\/\/api.w.org\/{rel}","templated":true}]}}