Revisiting Ashes

There is supposed to be meaning
to this place,
something more than sand
and the voice
of the ocean.

To them it is a memorial,
where comfort is found
and memories swirl
among the grasses
like the ashes once spread here,

but I can find nothing of her
on this beach, only wind
at my back and flowers
beginning to fade
on the dunes.

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20 Comments

Filed under Poetry

20 responses to “Revisiting Ashes

  1. Whew, this poem has its beauty AND its sadness. I think I know this beach……

  2. This just took my breath away. Wow.

  3. Bitter sweet, Mark. I made a little sigh at the end.

  4. yes…the grave…or where the ashes are cast is only a marker…none of them is left there….just the remains….

  5. A memory.. and sadness.. how can we ever find something of those that left us… a melancholy and sadness so beautifully expressed.

  6. oh heck… it is sad when nothing of a specific person clings to a place at a certain point..

  7. Oh this is so sad, but I’d want my ashes by the sea, too.

  8. Beautifully written. I can’t pretend that I care what happens to my ashes, but the children assure us that it matters to them.

  9. beautiful, mournful poem.

  10. I held my breath through this Mark–and sighed at the end–this is such a beautifully crafted piece–it holds the reader so well

  11. The loss and emptiness is palpable. Beautiful piece.

  12. sadness cries out on the most beautifully poem written ever. 😦

  13. such sadness, perhaps she is blowing in the breeze..whispering in your ear..

  14. Oh, this is sad, ultimately all that remains is inside, the emptiness on the outside…

  15. Fabulous! I discovered you via Poets’ Corner. 🙂

  16. Yes, we look for a sign but never get one… at least I never have. Lovely poem.

  17. A beautifully moving poem, Mark.

    Pamela

  18. Bittersweet, this really resonated with me.

  19. Bittersweet is a good word. Although you find no part of her there, all of the places you visit are exactly where she is. I don’t know if I’m making sense. Death has been on my mind a lot lately and as I write, I try to work through my chaotic thoughts. This is very moving, a poem that I could picture myself existing within.

Some of what I write is true, some is fiction; most is merely possibility.

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