When Michael or Gabriel
comes for me
do not write
RIP on my grave
or leave a rousing poem
and just let me be me.
When I die let me lie,
in a humble
piece of earth.
When I rise I will see
the Creator
with my own eyes
and this earth,
will only be
like a bed to me.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem