The Cycle

By Bleuzette La Feir

Bury me.

Burn me

then bury me.

Find a willow that will weep for me

for eternity

or as long as a willow might weep

Find a flower that will grow out of me


Or as long as a stalk might bloom

A woody wisteria,

an acorn oak—or

A birch— Yes!

A birch

Find a birch

with peeling paper bark

write my name on a curly sliver

place me in the ground

at its root

That fertile place

where moss and lichen live

where squiggly sperm

meet stable eggs

where stamen and pistil

meet their makers—


the original stork


to an immediate


of weeping

and blooming


But please,

I ask you

Bury me.


Burn me first,

then bury my naked ash

Don’t take me on a boat

Don’t scatter what is left of me

Don’t splatter what you hold of me

or whatever might remain of me

on the day that I might die

Please don’t cast me to the wind

from some cliff over chasm

I was never ever meant to fly

—this time

My mind and spirit are


I was whole

But only one

I never offered cells

for the pure benefit of another

never a multiplication

never a division of growth

No marrow, no organ…

a drop of blood here and there

but what is a drop of blood?


I am all that is left of my line

A lone species of deep


a culture of one

I ask to be buried

To cycle a new life

To replenish the ground

With rich, dark ashes—

As that carbon is all

I am able to offer now.



Born in Albuquerque, New Mexico, Bleuzette La Feir is a graduate of the University of New Mexico with a bachelor of fine arts in theater. She has written for the theater, creating and performing several one-woman shows. Through world travel she has gained inspiration from other cultures, foods, landscapes, architecture, people, and the general sights and sounds. She writes poetry, short stories, creative nonfiction, and biographical works. Although their permanent home is in the Chesapeake Bay region of Maryland, she will be accompanying her partner on a three year tour in Italy. Her work is forthcoming in Diverse Voices Quarterly.

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