Swirling Dust

The body that was once a man
That waits for the embrace
Of the cool earth
Lays on an old Indian blanket
Surrounded by a few friends
Waiting for the service to end
Waiting to be lowered
Waiting for the first thud of dirt

This is not the Streets of Laredo
There was no final gun fight
Only a life-long rebellion
No one bangs the drum slowly
Or plays the pipes lowly
But the body draped in the
Blanket still deserves
Our reverence

The dust swirls around
Both the living and the dead
It doesn’t differentiate
Nor does it judge
The death of an old poet
Whose words will outweigh
And outlast his deeds

Adios amigo

RD Armstrong