People play hide-and-seek with the Angel

of Death all their lives. When they get close

to losing, they hide from view.

 

Some seek solace in a life hereafter.

Not me.

 

I need nothing after life. One’s enough.

I’ll happily feed the worms, bacteria,

scavengers and plants.

 

My next life is in cedars and pines,

sailfish and seagulls, in the bodies

and voices of children ignorant of death.

 

I’ll live in a newborn’s cry, a toddler’s first steps,

in the breath used to say “Mama” and “Baba,”

in his first word read aloud with his small finger

touching the page, or in her first “A”

penciled on lined paper.

 

I’ll live in their first falling in love – forever.