We die many times
to the exuberance of childhood
to springs gone by
to the laughter of our souls
in a child’s life
When first we sit at our desk
in a little child’s way
and learn from others the abc’s
of how to stay
put
Dying begins
long before that
When our thumbs no longer suck
When we, “Do this,” “not that,”
When we see our father’s hand
and stop going that way
When we hear our mother’s cry
and come
and stay
Life begins with a little, small cry,
Life begins with a baby’s open eye,
Life begins even before that
in darkness, in womb,
in another’s climax,
Life is a seed through which we come
Life is a seed through which we come to be
Life is a heritage
Life is a lineage
Life is a coming of age
to be
one with our life
we must come to see
Life is about dying
to one’s self
to live
eternally.