A Poem: Recycling | Poetry | Hudson Valley | Hudson Valley; Chronogram

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A Poem: Recycling

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Ironically,
We try to flee
The dead we seem to fear.

We box them up
And bury them
So they won’t reappear.

Now science shows
That nothing’s lost,
Not even when we die.

Life’s energy,
So human once,
Becomes our air supply.

We breathe our dead
And die in stead;
Thus life goes on forever,

So when they say
We all must pray,
It’s to our own endeavor.

And so it seems
Our god is we
Whose science mind can peek

Into this complex
Trick of ours,
A system so unique.

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