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.


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. Laurie Kolp

    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.


  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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