When Death is now-
My body bereft of the Living Me is
Still sacred, though scarred-
Still divine, though diminished-
Still me, though mortal-
DO NOT give my body to a stranger, hired.
Don’t zip me up in body bag, like leftovers,
soon to be forgotten in the back of the refrigerator.
No draining of my blood.
No filling my vessels with formaldehyde.
No trocanters piercing and sucking out my once-vital organs.
Some who love me PLEASE
Gently wash me, anointing me with sandalwood & rose.
Dress me in my favorite clothes.
Spritz rose water, like love, on everyone.
Surround me with my familiar objects, still telling my story.
Sweeten my death bed with rose petals, homegrown if possible-
(Thank you Rose, Thank you Rose, Thank you Rose
for assisting with this healing.)
Say goodbye, as much as you each need to.
Laugh & cry over this flesh that laughed and cried with you so many times.
And then, let this Beloved Corpse rest -
nestled in Mother Earth’s womb-
wrapped in the shroud I’ve already embellished-
enfolded by Her, shovel-full by shovel-full-
this clod returning to clod.
Dance and sing on my grave, but leave soft entrance
For the native rose bush planted there--
My monument will be
flowers in the summer
rosehips in the winter.
