When I die,
I want to be clothed in black
and look stunning.

Afterwards,
I want my body cremated and my ashes scattered
wind in my hair, I feel part of everywhere.

But before all that,
I want my closest friends
to read their eulogy.

I will sit in front or in a corner,
and listen to our ancient stories
Every word of it.

I want to know
how they would
remember me.

I want to know
if I've been good, over all,
and if I have been worthy of this existence.

Like a regular human being,
in the end,
I need to be validated.

For now,
let me lay on this bed
in an old house in an old room.

There is a certain tranquility
in watching the low sun passed between
the small openings of the capiz window.

There is incarnation.
There is finding again.
There is hope.

No matter how tiny
and bleak
and almost impossible it looks,
it exists.