I’m currently reading a book, THE BOOK THIEF, where the author, Markus Zusak, uses Death as the narrator with an omniscient point of view. Rather than usual skull and bones swathed in a black cloak holding a grim reaper, Death is portrayed as a sympathetic character with the tendency to define moments by their color. It’s one of the most creative books I’ve come across in awhile, and I hope to write in more detail about it someday soon. Meanwhile, I came across this poem written by a one-time email friend of mine from Kentucky, Jim Peyton (the author of ZION’S CAUSE). I think Mr. Zusak’s and Mr. Peyton’s versions of the dark angel both enjoy color. Don’t mind me, I just like this poem and I hope you do too, and I don’t think Jim would mind my sharing it here.
GARDEN GO by Jim Peyton
When the dark angel comes for me,
Don’t scatter my ashes beneath some tree,
Or toss them out for the winds to blow.
No, let me again to my garden go:
Potash pleases them all, you know.
Postscript: It occurs to me that “wonton” might oughta be “wanton” in view of the other sensuous references in the piece, but whichever way it works for you is okay with me.