These hills are timeless;
they have been our landmarks
five lifetimes through.
I have watched them change
from backdrop to a Roman fort
to the rarely seen, dull wilderness,
smog hidden, on the edge of town.
They and you are constants, part
of me, my body’s slow sure compass,
the only given points
on the maps of all my lives.
I never understood life’s meaning
to be eternal death,
I long for future lives,
the excitement of love’s progress.
But as I watch your spirit pass
from this world to the next,
lungs battered by the blood
of our beloved hills,
And as I watch them dig your grave
on our hilltop’s blackened stump,
I hold your hand and quietly pray:
let the next life be Nirvana.
(Previously published in Smallfry)
A Different Voice for Totally Optional Prompts