When Ash Falls

Alone in the prayer room

She lights up a long incense stick

Piously places it onto the ceramic burner

On the altar table

Then starts to pray

Her daily ritual in memory of him

The incense smoke slowly ascends

Swings and sways

Higher and thinner

Seemly his shadow in mist

Mysterious and wandering

The nostalgic fragrance of

The sandalwood stick is

Permeating and calming

Under the spell

She dozes off with a hand

Still holding the chanting book

Time is transiently tugged away

The world is gently budged aside

In the dream

She rejoices over the reunion with him

Only the glowing ember is still in line with time

Slowly it descends down the stick

Atop ash grows taller

Resisting to fall it remains erect

Suddenly its fluffiness yields to gravity

When ash falls

It makes no sound

As he turns to dust

By Shih-Fang Wang

From: United States