A Garden Poem by Elena Toledo

A Garden



Shall I rest my
beaten body,
my weary soul in a
garden not yet grown,

In the mountains
where no one goes
or in valleys
where I pray to the lord.

I have said my
wish for the
day I'm gone,
I have climb
the mountains where
the point is cold
and in search for a land
where peace may flow.

I gather pieces like a
mosaic frame and I
figure out my resting place;
I do not want
a sarcophagus in
a cemetery.

I want to be buried
where there is no noise,
where the wind
blows freely,
where is against the law
forbidden in the
highest point.

Where there's just a
small area to fit my ashes
burned and poured in
a starbucks coffee can.

And where growing
roses, violets, daisies,
lilies and orchids,
make a little garden where
I'll rest my bones.

This is my wish this
is my end,
my immortality
and my farewell on earth.
It is not my time yet,
but this is,
I am sure how
I want to be left.


Copyright�ElenaToledo2009

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Elena Toledo

Elena Toledo

Cuba Havana
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