Buzzards

Buzzards circle overhead

God I hope they are coming for me

For all the things within me that I hope to die;

Shame, self doubt, unworthiness,

Please decay in my back woods

Take the fear that weighs me down

And leave me

Bone bare with authenticity

With truth, with soul

Must I lay down as sacrifice?

Only to find that with every painful thing consumed

I am, in fact, more than I ever was

Decay has never felt so good

Personal death has never been so sweet

For what rots and dies was never me anyway

Anything with a time stamp could never hold me longI’m here for the expanding eternal and the many forms it takes

They say loves doesn’t last but I say bodies don’t last

Moments of time don’t last

But deep within, love and connection is forever

Oh I am grateful for the wise body that houses me and the experiences she has

But, any pieces of this human self formed from years of false truth about the essence of who I am

I offer as breakfast for the circling buzzard.