When death comes, may we come back to collect each of our bones,
gently lay them together and set them alight during an
intimate ceremony only witnessed by each of
of our former selves.
Unshrouded and bare-faced.
And as they burn, may we remember to wail without cease
and with great release so that each of whom of ourselves
we once disposed to make room for others may stand up
and forgive us.
May the dancing flames exude a warmth of great comfort such that
there is not a lived moment we would wish to live differently.
May the crackling sound of the burning bones inspire a song of triumph
for making end days that spared us the shame of looking back at an adversity of a life.
May we find our way back to this much dreaded valley,
crawling with dry bare, bones that bewilder us every time we care to pay a visit.
As they burn and blow as infinite ashes
that will glow and keep the universe alight may we resurrect
as black roses on whatever soils we land on
and hopefully, find a peace we never experienced as bodily beings.
