As this season of death and rebirth does approach,
My gift is a subject which nobody likes to broach.
The day we're conceived is the day we begin to die,
Leaving the positive behind is that for which I've tried.
The birth of Jesus began a sequence of life;
One in which we are shown The Spirit of less strife.
Lord, please take me before my second childhood;
I had a first one, and it truly wasn't so good.
People get tired of wiping poo out of people's pants;
At least when we're tiny, there's a little romance.
But for the elderly and the physically infirm,
The thought of complete dependency makes most of us squirm.
As my body ages and I begin to disintegrate
Eternal peace of the hereafter is that for which I wait.
To give up holding on to this body of mine,
There should be a way to sign it over on the dotted line.
Not simply to say that as I breathe my last breath
And there are flat brain wave studies and other tests.
This season of rebirth and personal regeneration
Has given me pause to think about the next generation.
I've worked so hard to give my children, nephews, and nieces
A way to make peace with our ancestors' disparate pieces.
I want to go while the positive that I've imparted
Still exceeds the bad memories of the dearly departed.