Seeds From Blood

Esther K. Bowen

I crave not a wake
Or a beautiful box
I need no headstone
For my place to remember me
Instead, let my grave be
The place where I fell
In some foreign soil
Or my native land
Let my grave mark
My fighting ground
Let it forever witness
My heart for the souls
My Master sought
And let the trees that grow
From the hard-fought soil
Be evergreen
And bear fruit every season

Inspired by the story of a Christian martyr who was buried in the country to which he witnessed because his Muslim family would not accept his body. He was not returned to his native land.