when I die
do not burn away my flesh
do not reduce me to smoke and ash

when I die
do not place my artificial skin on a bed of satin
do not isolate me in claustrophobic wooden walls

when I die
take me to a forest and let the wind knot my hair
muddy my fingertips in the swirling water of a stream

when I die
cut through the soil, mind the roots and rocks
lower me till my back rests against the dirt

when I die
tuck me into a bed of imperceivable
but triumphant life

when I die
sprinkle my grave with birdseed
let me go, I will be in good company

when I die
let me dissolve into something substantial
let the rain seep through the earth and separate
each cell of my being