ascension to peace
i have been drawn out by fire
my ashes lay still
in a field of stalks and straw
all that has not burned
has been eaten or seared
into a hard-baked clay
and lies near a husk of corn
soon a brisk wind will come
and i will be scattered above
the mountains and the moths
where i will take the shape of stars
and ascend beyond the clouds
only then can i look back
at the smoke that drifts east
towards the horizon
and at that part of me
that lies near a husk of corn
and know for sure
i am not dead --
only risen