Buried in Skull Valley
surrounded by low level nuclear waste
near the Dugway proving ground where my father was sent by the military
to engage in symposiums designed to facilitate
preparation and medical response for nuclear holocaust
Not far from what today is a chemical weapons stockpile
My capsule waits to be discovered.
Who will care what lies inside?
No one even remotely related to me or with a sincere interest in who I am today.
A vial, a vessel, a capsule of evidence, of something that has passed
To be retrieved by persons unknown
Archaeologist? Treasure hunter? Forager? or Thief?
My life has been about the journey, not about the prize.
So I hide my capsule in this place fraught with danger
designed to intrigue and entice the seeker
by the difficulty that removing it will entail
But before so hiding, I place inside the sleeping box . . .
nothing.
Someday I will visit India
sit beneath the Bodhi tree
and smile quietly.
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