Christopher Hansard:[ the smoke]

when you look at the horizon

you can see a tall plume

of smoke

that like

a rope

knots itself to

the edge of the sky

look carefully

for it is the soul path

where those who have died pass on

and those who are entering pass down

each stops on the way to speak

but for a moment,

“do you have a message?”

or

” where am I going?”

often a shrug or a tear

and sullen look or happy glance

but the soul path

always billows

like a plume of smoke

from a fire made with damp wood

within the human flow

there too go the other people,

ants, birds, tapeworms and whales

all to their respective places

in the pattern of life’s movement

they are more certain than us,

for only human beings can carry doubt

over into death, and the memory of those passed on

are often kept alive by it

watch for the plume of smoke

smell its fragrance

you can taste it in the air