Body-Soul Recycle

See how my body eagerly droops earthward as I age?
It rushes to pay back
the sun- the soil - the rain-
all that it’s borrowed these many years of eating and breathing.
My final breath will be an exhale.
Do not deny me, then, the joy of feeding a rose bush with my abandoned flesh & bones
after ages of plucking petals to celebrate beauty & strength .

When my soul finally flies into the Big Bang of Death,
Leaving behind this food body in gratitude to Mother Earth,
Remember
Both,
Yes,
Both holy trajectories.

When Death is Now

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.