The Final Bath

Death sweeps through the body
Both slow and fast —

The lights dim behind the eyelids
No spark, no visits, not the sun, the moon,
The siblings, the bath, the treats, the love,
Are allowed to reignite the glow.
The rejection of life is the only way to move on.

The skin alters between yellows and blues
The fatigue overpowers
A rattling chest shakes
The body contorts as communication ceases
The heart speeds up
While the breathe takes longer pauses
Until both fall even — with no frequency at all.

Death shepherds my daughter’s soul,
Outside of the constricted body.

In silence,
Carrying her to the bathroom,
And beginning to fill the tub,
Needing not to worry about temperature and depth —
The physical doesn’t matter anymore.

Washing with her favorite smelling shampoo,
Her curls bounce back.
Cleaning her mouth of bacteria, festering there for weeks,
Her face relaxes in peace.
Dressing her in a favorite outfit,
She looks as everyone knew her on this earth.
Lying her down with her favorite toys, blankets, and pictures,
She’s escaped from the pains, and disease, of this earth.

After cleaning death off her body,
Looking down in awe at the physical vessel
That failed to carry her spirit,
A wave of acceptance seeps —
Realizing the energy we all are.
There’s no need to let her go —
Energetically, spiritually, whole-heartedly — she will be here.

The Final Bath:
A transfer from physical to spiritual.

The physical visual of death,
Allows the brain to comprehend —
The soul is no longer in the body loved by so many.
In response, awareness jumps and leaps
Looking for where the soul goes —
And she is everywhere.

The longing to give her another bath,
Another hug, hear another ‘goodnight, mommy’
Would make this physical world immeasurably easier to occupy.
But, tapping into the new, loving energy,
Holds the ability to hear and feel those moments all over again,
As clear as rain.
Access to a whole new world she is now a part of.

A mockingbird chirps outside the window,
Under the moon, in the dead of night,
Reminding, “You’re right. This isn’t it.”