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Dry Bones


We bury the past.

Here in the desert
is a good place for it.

No creeping mold and rot
that would destroy;
just desiccation,
mummification,
confirmation
that a monster can lie buried here
a thousand years.

The sands will cover everything,
make invisible
what we would not see.
We can go through life 
with confidence,
reassured
it's all obscured.

Old pains are cured.

And if on some dark night,
curiosity compels us
to go searching for old bones,
we'll find them right here,
as we left them;
preserved,
conserved,
and unobserved.

Rendered safe by time.


This is a Sunday Scribblings post.

5 comments:

Berowne said...

Sharply perceptive; well done.

July 14, 2013 at 1:28 PM
Alice Audrey said...

Seems like we always end up out in the sand, digging up old bones.

July 14, 2013 at 2:19 PM
Barbara Torris said...

I liked this one a lot. Well done.

July 14, 2013 at 6:11 PM
oldegg said...

The desert is a beautiful place, it calls you back time and time again and covers your tracks and whispers secrets.

July 14, 2013 at 6:51 PM
Susan Helene Gottfried said...

This is only a good thing when you WANT to preserve the past, however. Pardon me while I head down to Mississippi to bury stuff instead!

July 14, 2013 at 7:10 PM