If in death I succumb to the depths of a cold, dark grave, my dear,
Heart stalled permanently; no sights to see, nor sounds to hear,
Then why waste time on costly coffin accoutrement?
My nakedness will not offend worms in search of nutrients.
Why sing songs, most mournful dirges to send me on my way?
Just close the lid and lock it tight against the light of day.
Better still to light a pyre, or set adrift in Viking ship
Burning boldly through the night, ashes sifting, soul adrift.
Note: Look for more of Julie Powell’s photography at juliepowell2014.wordpress.com