I’ve spent my life bellowing like a mule, feeling broken beneath a burden that was mine to learn to carry or the weight of another’s I could not ease.
In these four remaining days, the robe, that has been my body revels in its own unraveling. Inside, a hummingbird hovers, half-inside a flower, then zips away, stitching the sky with iridescence.
In these three remaining days, I am still, knowing what ripens below, soon breaks through the duff, finds some light- a rose-colored mushroom, quietly glistens in the redwood mist.
On this, the second to last day, I ride a riptide out to sea, find myself fixed again to the ocean’s umbilicus. Rocked upon her heaving breast, I taste the briny tears we share, let go my thirst.
On this, my final day of living, with every last breath, I make a plea for the chance to hold aloft a hundred more burdens, a friendship to sip, a forest to sit in, singing thank you, thank you, thank you!