Let Me Die Softened
This is a Belated Response to an Imagà Imaginings prompt.
Let me die softened,
Like the feather
That floats
Or satin sheets
On a welcomed bed.
When I leave this place
Let the rough edges
Be smooth —
Rounded and curved,
Like a grandmother’s arms.
May my hard thoughts,
The unyielding ones,
Effortlessly float
Like clouds
Against a blue sky.
When I go forward
Into the unknown
May my vessel
Be soft and supple,
Like a child’s beloved bear.
If this life has one purpose,
Let it be to teach
How to yield
To the winds of change and
Detours in our path.
Let this life break
The hard pieces,
Wash away the grit,
Leaving only soft,
Sparkling sand.
May my body transform
To it’s infancy —
May my muscles
Become pillows,
And my sinew
Become silk.
I arrived vulnerable
And thrashing,
May I leave vulnerable
And accepting,
Ready to let go.
