Mortaljive: The Rest is Silence

There is no still point in all the Universe, and that is the rock upon which I stand

Tuesday, April 19, 2011

Alamitos Bay

we scattered my father's cremated remains
well, some of them
off the jetty in Alamitos Bay
a brother played trumpet: taps
we sang "waltzing matilda"
bubbles were blown
tears were shed
flowers were given to the bay on the inward tide

the marine layer kept things gray
the cool breeze was ours for a time
we gradually turned back to the way we came
and then another day was gone



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