If I died,
But then came back.
What would I look like?
What would I be?
Will I be who I was?
Will I come back as me?
Or something else entirely?
Like a rock or a tree?
Or a frog or a bee?
If I died,
But returned as a snack.
What would I taste like?
What things would eat me?
Will I make a good meal?
Will I taste nice and sweet?
Or pretty disgusting
Like rotten pigs feet?
Or milk, that's been out for a week?
If I died,
But stood up in my coffin.
What would happen?
How would I be greeted?
Would people take notice?
Or just remain seated
As if no one cares?
Or would they all gasp in terror
Then fall out their chairs?
Would anyone want me?
Or have no more,
And go running and screaming
As they head out the door?
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
Rebirth is a profound enterprise. Death is a profound change indeed.