What will I become?
Buried under earth, dirt
Consciousness gone, but perhaps a rebirth
I do not know-I cannot say
Don’t ever tell me to believe your way
Our ancestors buried their dead
Curled up-fetal, knees to chest
Hoping like seeds give way to flowers
For a regeneration from the Earth’s womb powers
For us to return in some beautiful state
Where our life is built on the lessons we take
Like those before, let vultures chew to my bones
Strip me right down to my internal stones
Paint me red, like blood from the womb
Grant me the solace of a cosmological tomb
Resting in the form of the way I became
Atoms, molecules, cells, a Name
Earth Water Fire Wind—-stones hold their magic, cover me with them
Maybe earth’s pulse will warm the marrow inside
And evolve me slowly from matter to mind
What will I become?
Buried under earth, dirt
Consciousness gone, but perhaps a rebirth
Written by Stacy Johnson (June 24, 2019. Cycle Day 29 WW)
Singing Over My Bones 