Unto dust you shall return…

God bless the dust hiding

under my couch, my chair,

my bed, behind my dresser

and end table both solid

to view and hiding decay

from you, but I know dust

has returned and always

will, swept and washed

simply to clear a way

for carbon’s inevitable

epiphany’s undoing of

all that wishes to live

and therefore must be

ready to die; God bless

mother’s wishing to be,

grandma’s praying their

own to safety and peace,

those who protect, heal,

bind up and care along

the way of return to hide

under my couch, my chair,

my bed which I kneel

beside trying to learn

life’s bold humility in

the way of dust’s return.