Sometimes death is tragic, sometimes it is cruel, sometimes it is unfair - and sometimes it is just plain honest!

(Mainstream was as good a category as any!)

I wandered the wide beach,
Sand and rotting flesh seeking an intimate oneness
Birds starting on one migration
Ending on a greater one.
The wind and ocean their pallbearers
The sand and tide their undertakers.
Many would see cruelty here
In exhausted, lifeless bodies
The litter of a passing tide.

But I see the earth lovingly gathering
Her own to her ample bosom,
A private place of peace and quiet
For valiant children in need of rest.
Of all these tiny bodies before me
Not one died of loneliness or shame.
Not one died by the hand of its own kind
Not for land, nor money, nor hate, - nor fun.
Not by gun, nor blade - nor poison.
Not one died alone - free indeed - but not alone.
Not one who would not do it all again.


I look down at my feet
At delicate feathers and fine bone
A simple and honest death for a simple and honest life
Seeing not something to be pitied
But perhaps something to be envied.

D.J. Ludlow Copyright 2000