It’s our final sacrifice, <br />Dying, lying in our linen shrouds, <br />No embalming, no device <br />Of preservation, no dead crowds <br />Of slaves or wives to keep us company <br />On some long journey into night, <br />No brass fittings, no mahogany <br />Encasing us, but wrapped in white <br />And lowered simply into sand or earth <br />Then covered gently to the song of sighs, <br />Each pebble placed a prayer for a rebirth <br />God owes us for our final sacrifice. <br /> <br />LRH <br />3.29.06 <br />To Tomas De Faoite replying to his questions about Gershon's Bury the Patriarch<br /><br />Linda Hepner<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/kaddish/
