Bedside

Bedside,
I hold your plump hand,
cold,
white thread of foam
sewing 
your lips shut,
as if you disapprove 
of crying.

It would be horrible
if not for the knowing 
you’d transformed,
universe 
having finished contracting,
your soul sucked 
backed to the source,
reverse birth,
energy united,
ready for 
reincarnation. 

How I’ll remember 
that exact moment.
Life changing.
Life giving. 
The constant 
push
of all we call real
ending right there for me,
guessing,
no longer needed.

You showed me 
there is no 
afterworld,
nor barren nothingness
to dread.
It’s all a continuous 
breath.
And you.
Well.
No one is ever
dead. 

-Katherine Gotthardt