I’m here, dying, fast or slow,
I’ve known for some time this is how it would be.

We are told many things
before we live them.

I recall my dream of a green river valley
long before we moved there,

and two brave, sweet boys who took my hands
months before they were born.

These connections to worlds that will be
come at rare moments,

when I stop to listen to the wind and the hush
with the wild rabbits and savvy squirrels,

and I know whom I love —
and whom I hope never to meet again.

So I celebrate my reunion with the voice and the music —
the singer and the song —

with the flesh, so beloved, that only dies once,
yet lives forever in each moment,

each moment that discovers the past, present, and future,
when I am in touch with the fullness of now.