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