Death is no race or ride
or wild release.
No matter how deeply they bury us,
our spirits are seeds
traveling across infinite galaxies
to cross pollinate new species.
Our fruits multiplied with
each blossoming spring.
We are the storage
for all that went before us.
Death is another chance for
for release –
to share our masterpieces,
to germinate,
to breed.
©2023 | K. Hartless
GloPoWriMo#30: Today, I’d like to challenge you to write a palinode – a poem in which you retract a view or sentiment expressed in an earlier poem. I thought it would be fun to double down on this idea and retract not only my previous poem, but tonight’s poem as well. Tonight’s musings: Death is a Pendulum Ride and my earlier work: The Final Breakaway
Oh, April. It’s been such good fun. I’m always glad to see you arrive and to see you reach a satisfying end.
Yard Sale of Thoughts 
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