Black Japara

Bury me with my old black japara on a hill overlooking the ocean.
Give away my organs and money and things
but bury me with that old black japara

It was with me when I whispered things buried deep within
It was with me when the sleeting rain and ocean spray aroused in me
that which time and space cannot capture
in dark nights starlit skies
it knows my secrets

Bury me with my old black japara on a hill overlooking the ocean
wrap me like one who loved me

poem by Ian Hall
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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