He clings to life.
She clings to him,
desperate that he
live another day.
Hours pass,
and so does he.
Her tears fall like
stardust to the dirt
floor of their hut,
a river of grief too
deep to fathom.
They have the pyre
ready, and she lies
next to him, holds
his hand, and smiles.
She will be the candle
showing him the way.
“Sati” was printed in Tracks, No. 9 of Inwood Indiana. Pick up the paperback from Prolific Press; the stories and poems published online are free to read here.
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