The Bone Cleaners
Here sleepy I must rest
in my dark, cool bed,
peace from the ferocious sun,
safe from the dry, hard wind,
my toes face the sea,
my head the monastery,
blankets of earth cover me.
A sharp shaft of sun,
cuts through the silence of my rest,
and another, and more like blades
haul me away from the earth,
raising me from the dead.
I can not struggle
I am only bone.
Hands scrub from me my tatters of life
reduce me to a brittle pile
collect me up in a bundle
to be stowed away safe
in cool stone tomb
surrounded by my ancestors.
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