by Allyson Turner
My father’s grave lies in an unknown plot of land.
He lives still,
but sometimes I remember that the ground now
exists where he will one day be buried, or scattered.
My mother and I visit cemeteries wherever we go.
Morbid, some say.
A graceful acceptance of death, say I.
I’ve come to terms with my own mortality without longing for
death. My own remains will one day be scattered on a wind that
sometimes comes to brush my cheek,
tangling the ends of my hair,
flirting with my warm, living flesh.
And wait for the day I can become
one with the stars again.
Ashes to ashes.
Stardust to stardust.
About the Author
Allyson Turner is a poet, a dreamer, a crafter, a lifelong student of the earth, and a librarian. They have been writing poetry for over a decade now in the pursuit of living what someone once called “a poetic life.” Allyson draws from their religious background — using Biblical imagery to a fault — their queerness, a mystical view of the universe, and the desert landscapes they grew up surrounded by. They are currently pursuing an MLIS and hope to incorporate poetry into a career in librarianship.