Dia de los Muertos (1)
I assist the wandering.
My every cell a marigold petal,
golden sheen
pupil black
They flutter to the earth, flakes of me, patina to lead
the way home.
Follow my trail of flitting confetti, from your marker
of marble dusted with arbors’ resting dead,
to the threshold of my door.
Your shrine awaits.
The altar offers the last remnants of my altered autumnal
body, metamophosed into a fragrant guide
for the rest of nights.
Until the end of days.
I offer my flesh as candle wax.
A horizon star for your spirit.
by Suzanne Grazyna
Reading by Dave Bonta — Download the MP3
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Categories: Transformation
