how the dead rinse away to the sea

how the dead rinse away to the sea

i walk the cobbled path

downhill, away from the cemetery.

a path for mourners, for those

with supermarket Sunday flowers.

whilst the dead, may walk

this way, it is mostly at night,

unseen, shiver shapes

in twilight.

beyond the final cobbled step

the laughter of water, freed

and excitable,

glistens the dell.

beneath the wilted blooms,

the photos in waterproof plastic,

the dead return to the earth,

a temporary holding cell.

in time, through oceans of rain

pushed to swimming, through

the tears of loved ones,

they rinse away, gleefully downstream.

one way, or another

we all return to the sea,

it holds us closer, than close,

until we begin again.