Darkness envelopes the quiet cemetery.
I dig a divot-style hole between ancestral footstones.
She’d requested to be with her parents.
Still in her carved ivory urn, I pry the lid,
begin gently pouring Mom into the cavity.
Bone chunks surprise me. Shivers run through me.
The stillness now registers loudly.
Finally, I whisper a prayer.
She’s home at last.

One thought on “All That Cre-mains by Leslie Sittner

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