0 If I Return

After my body’s sealed with earth,
Fed to wild dogs, or turned to ash,
After I die, if I return,
May it be as a bird.

Lifespan of months or years, no more,
Driven by season, snow and storm,
Gleaning without a Sabbath rest,
Falling to earth with none to mourn,
Banished from thought by all but God.

Flying with festive feathered wings
Swimming the heaven’s crystal vault,
Surfing invisible winds and clouds,
Soundlessly splitting silent skies,
Sailing with joy in boundless space.

Limited but by nature’s laws,
They soar . . .
And they soar . . .
And they soar . . .
After I die, if I return,
May it be as a bird.

--Wayland J., Adult