When I die, bury me
in a pinewood box...
I don't want ruffles
encasing my body,
just a fabric lining
in an exotic print,
beads and baubles
will be my halo.
Dress me in a bohemian
artsy gothic dress and
place flowers in my hair,
rings on my toes.
Drink wine and recite poetry
and play my favorite songs.
Drink gourmet coffee and
eat bagels and lox from
the nearest Jewish deli.
Do not place shoes on my feet.
I want to meet God barefoot,
hand him a flower from my hair
and have life's sparkle
lingering in my dark eyes.
I want to thank him for
giving me art and poetry,
a sense of humor to
weather life's battles,
optimism and a heart
hungry for love and
compassion.
I want my funeral to be
a gathering of people from
all walks of life, the tattooed
alongside the tuxedoed,
the poor sitting amongst
the Jewish bling-bling
relatives of my mother.
I want nurses and doctors
sipping wine with poets
I've met and written with,
children free to speak
their minds, their hearts
and everyone should hug
and kiss on the lips
and say, "I love you".
I want glitter on the floor
and daisy chains draped
in the doorways. I want cages
of singing birds on the altar.
I want you to dance and sing
and laugh about silly things
we've done together.
I want rainbow-colored balloons
sent to heaven after I'm
lowered into Mother Earth's
loving earthy bosom.
And you don't have to wear black.
Wear feather boas and carry
magic wands and let the children
blow bubbles and sing songs.
And remember how I loved life.
