the soul wanders the planet for
years
interlaced with other souls
making oatmeal
getting into arguments
writing books
holding a baby or two
we leave an imprint
we are remembered
we are loved back
then before we know it
it’s time to leave
the body worn and tired
teeth falling out
senses grown dull
we lose use of our legs
someone lifts us onto the toilet
wipes us clean
we stop feeding ourselves
someone who loves us brings a
spoon to our mouths
“dying—it’s a bitch
a fucking bitch”
we stop arguing
there are no more words
only the delicate skin
which itself is breaking down
only the constant rhythm of
breath
which itself grows rattley
we long to leave
but we cannot find the door
“is it today? is today the day?”
but no, it’s breakfast time again
oatmeal, yogurt, coffee, black
people come and sit
we remember them
we don’t remember them
we talk
we don’t talk
still looking for the door
rachel maddow is on tv
the boat show is this weekend
an old ruby dee movie
but one blessed day
tired after breakfast
we slip back into sleep
way opens like a sliver of sun
through dense trees
we make ourselves narrow
take one final breath
and slip into two dimensions
we leave our exhausted bodies
we watch the fussing and crying
but after the tears
the celebration
our souls having outgrown our
bodies
the portal releases us
free at last
