Final Instructions Poem by David McLansky
Final Instructions
My sweet heirs, burn my remains
Death is ugly and I am vain,
Let me not turn green in a box,
Food for worms as my flesh rots;
Give me the dignity of fire;
(Just make sure I have expired ;)
No one makes a pretty corpse,
Rake my ashes without remorse;
In my parlor squats a man,
Gudea of Lagash with folded hands;
Use this statue for my urn,
Seal the bottom, a plaster cairn;
That you make look upon my art
And see the life in which I took part;
As you chat in my living room
May you be at ease before my tomb.
.
Now I have this recurring image, of being in a room, such as this parlor you describe, and reading aloud your poems, as I have done so often... This is a rather comforting thought, really... Great poem, as always, Sir... Be well.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
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4/27/2024 2:09:24 AM # 1.0.0.1119
A very poignant poem about the ending of one's life and your thoughts on how you want to be remembered. Really remarkable how you express these feelings and thoughts, many people will not talk about these things at all. Love this poem, it coincides with the way I feel about dying, although I don't want to be cremated, just remembered with love. Great poem! Thank you for sharing it! RoseAnn