where they all wear white.
A garland of pale yellow carnations
adorned her neck.
They placed her on the fire.
Wrapped in linen, infused with oils;
you could count her transgressions
rise from the smoke of the pyre.
They took the form of the faces
on which she had trespassed; Friends,
lovers, children, Her One, parents, animals
floating from her burning body
releasing her pain into the cool summer air.
Their faces, as they ascended, were smiling;
for they had already forgiven her
but stayed locked inside her heart
until this very dying moment.