Pushing the Needle

My father wasn’t 
the kind of man 
to let his ashes just 
blow in the wind. 

He spent his life 
trying to push him-
self through needles.

At his celebration 
of life, I watched
as his ash drifted 
down through the 
smallest cracks.

The poor man
would have 
been pleased.

Then, the sea 
tasted his embers
and scattered him
amongst the waves 
breaking on the beach.