Grace and Peace to you.
I have a small vial of clay
that used to hold my father’s ashes.
They’re on a hillside in Montana now;
the vial is clean and empty,
ready for me.
I should keep it in my pocket,
hold it deep in the folds of my coat,
until I am folded into my little vial of clay.
It asks me, what is the difference
between you and clay?
The answer is water.
That, and love.
The little vial of clay says daily:
drink water while you can,
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