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.