No histrionics please
Let me die as a quiet leaning sign
By the edge of a long country road
Running between nations.
No billboard, brand or live streaming please.
Like a blue bird who is done with flight,
And simply falls to the ground on a certain night, readied
To fly into the next Sky, by morning-
As some sort of angel
I presume. Carrying her own history
With her—as we do
On wings of another’s Glory.