When I’m But Ashes
         by Odin Roark

Will you get to know me
when I’m gone?

After endings evolve into
new beginnings
when questions cease to arise?

What is it about another’s presence
that so often dissuades inquiry?

What is it about knowing someone
up to a point that signifies,
satisfies
nullifies
and indemnifies against loss?

Is knowing someone
dependent on personal experience,
or can a well-defined shadow,
useable in the sometime harshness of light,
remain spirited beyond yesterday?

Perhaps you’ll scour the dim attic sanctum,
discover dusty boxes,
sealed up retrospect,
where passion’s shadowlight still ablaze,
has remained unread for so long

I hope you’ll get to know me
When I’m but ashes,
for absence is but a convenience
available to those seeking forgetfulness.