After I am gone I want to speak still from beyond
My life ‘s last gossamer threads
artfully woven into a beautiful tapestry for my children (and my children’s children)
to finger with wonder.
The tears I cried shimmering dew on Anansie’s web
I will take from my eyes the boatman’s fare
The penny of my thoughts to find
To drop and ripple still in dark waters
In my wake I vow to leave
A thousand stories, yet a thousand more never told.
On my half full glass, a scarlet lipstick stain
As arcane as Tarot wisdom,
As priceless and enduring as Aztec gold.