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Ancient times, they feared the crossroads
at the juncture built an altar
made of skull and crossbones

a wrong turn can shatter a life's incense-and-flower altar
burn you down to a heap of knuckles and bones
so give homage to the death-breath as you pause at the crossroads

I heed the old ways, knowing in my bones
how a certain incantation rings at the crossroads
I pay my respects and the Lord Death passes by my altar

Altar of bones laid at the crossroads

Copyright © 2003 The President and Fellows of Harvard College.
All rights reserved. Comments. Last modified Tue, Dec 9, 2003.