7 Minutes

Scatter me by the family tree,

a place where my grandmother

planted the seeds that I picked up

and let grow into me.

Scatter me at the edges of the island

where the tides cascade over the shore

and wash me with memories of my family

that my weary eyes now cry for.

Scatter me amongst these pages

and let the paper wither away in the wind

as pieces of me disappear into nature

and I become one with earth again.

And when my skin is wrinkled with wisdom

and my bones brittle into diminished shapes,

what will I remember in my last 7 minutes?

When I’ve taken my last breath

and my heartbeat slows…

Will I remember the gentle hand

that passed me the julie mango?

Will I remember the cracked tiles

in the kitchen of my old house?

Will I remember the vastness

of the Caribbean Sea

and the gray areas of living in between

my deepest currents and my greatest dreams?

Once as strong as bones, my memories

now turn to ashes, withering into dust...

Yet the ache of having loved

and the echo of having lived

will continue to move through my spirit

like a song that calls out into the wind

and when that song fades

into whispers

let it be enough

for me to shed this life

and start anew.

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