Poem To Self In Passing
Listen to poem:
Bury me not to rot deep in the bowels of earth,
all alone in the cold, silent, dank wetness of dirt.
For the very first day I awoke before birth
I was floating in the warm sea of the womb, so alert
to my mother's warm body fluid, soothing and supporting.
Bobbing and rocking, caressed by her comforting
touching of me, and her soft muffled words and lullabies,
I was carried in her womb until my birth's surprise and cries.
At my demise, burn my body, scatter my ashes far out to sea
so they can bob and rock, floating in sheer delight and glee
at being back in a womb, back in the sea, where I want to be.
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