Wither

Suttee, Sacral Kingship, & Human Sacrifice

The day my husband died, 
		I chose life. 
	My people cast me out;
		a widow has no business
			living past the dawn, 
but I would rather wither
		in the darkness of exile
	than share the world beyond 
		with him. 

AFTERWORD

I don't write poetry often, and I wasn't planning to write a poem when I sat down to write this week. It just kind of happened, a m…