loving mother kali

when my shell is near absolute deterioration,
ashes of my hands, feet or wings to be blown away by air into the sea or crevices of what cares.
an eye ball could be missing,
and, the rot that succeeds a life lived,
faded or burned away follows.
know that my disappearance honors you through truth,
and gentleness of this soul gracefully ripping and burning the crate that holds it.
i let go of you,
to remain with you always
for there are more heights
than what an inflammable chain around the phoenixes leg would allow.
cessation of this existence i do not fear,
let the damn house burn and perish to charcoal bits! along with its every possession!
i do not die.
i do not die. 

—Vivian C., Adult