Veil of Ashes

A veil of ashes
obstructed the view,
yet I could hear
tide’s swell crashing,
washing what was left
of me into you.

Cold Atlantic,
six eyes watching,
I opened the chest,
sea-foam, washing
your ashes up my legs.

I was cold, haunted.

Momentary horror,
but I’m settling.
I realized it was fitting,
and hung your
veil of ashes
over widower’s eyes.

For years, eyes blackened.

Cold Atlantic,
deep and thrashing,
holds the spirit
of one long gone.

©️ CG Tenpenny, 2018.

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