Dying To Be Free

My first thought when I died was,
“What a relief to be free of that body! ”

It felt as though I was released from inside a prison
Suddenly, I no longer had to think or worry about:
Feeding the body
Clothing the body
Washing the body
Making money to support the body
Finding shelter for the body
Buying clothes and shoes for the body
Transporting the body
Manicuring the body
Having fun with the body
Making love with the body
Giving comfort to the body
Healing the body
Having doctors fix the body
Buying insurance for the body
Preparing for old age of body
Looking at a mirror reflection of the body
Exercising the body
Weighing the body
Trying to make the body look younger than it actually is
Worrying about what others may think of my body
And, finally, making plans for the body when it dies

So, as before the beginning and at the end
“What a relief to be free of that body! ”

by William E. Marks

Comments (2)

Such a beautiful poem ruined by translation sadly.
This is a not the best translation. There is a better one. I think it's by James Mcgowan. Often, when bored, the sailors of the crew Trap albatross, the great birds of the seas, Mild trave11ers escorting in the blue Ships gliding on the ocean's mysteries. And when the sailors have them on the planks, Hurt and distraught, these kings of a11 outdoors Piteously let trail along their flanks Their great white wings, dragging like useless oars. This voyager, how comical and weak! Once handsome, how unseemly and inept! One sailor pokes a pipe into his beak, Another mocks the flier's hobbled step. The Poet is a kinsman in the clouds Who scoffs at archers, loves a stormy day; But on the ground, among the hooting crowds, He cannot walk, his wings are in the way.