One day

when I breathe my last

Those things which weigh heavy on me

Those things which are unresolved

Those things which I have done

(which cannot be undone)

Will NOT cease to be…

They just will no longer rend me

And that which is heavy

That which is unresolved

That which has been done

Will sadly continue to remain

and I — will simply be — a memory

My hope

Is that remembrances of me would be like a refreshing mist

that that ebbs and flows through a stand of trees.

or the scent of Jasmine in a warm summer breeze

but I deceive myself to think that all memories of me would be thus

You see,

The broken places in me

have broken others.

The boulders of my well built fortress

would fall

and  crush

and grind

Now, often, regret clings to me

–a millstone

So I KNOW

that when I am dust, returned from whence I came

the remembrances of me will either be

a delightful fragrance

or a lingering stench.

I am undone knowing this