In this life I will know passion.
I will be poised and ready for it,
utterly and truly engulfed with the desire to be someone,
to create something.
In this life I will be wounded,
and angry,
and sad and scared and bursting at the seams with untapped energy.
In this life I will yearn,
maybe for something better,
maybe for something more dangerous,
but regardless,
I will be passionate.
I will scorn and be scorned,
living life the way I want to even if it hurts,
even if it tears at my skin,
ripping up parts of me that shouldn’t exist in the first place.
But,
I think that in my next life,
I could become a bumblebee,
so fat and happy and so,
so ardently in love with everything I see.
Buzzing and buzzing and buzzing until I just can’t take it anymore,
and my pitiful little wings finally give out.
In my next life I want to be forced to take a nap in a blooming flower,
just barely big enough to hold me,
cradled like an infant’s head between the palms of her mother,
safe and warm and so,
so secure,
nestled in the sweet embrace of the earth.
Maybe an excited child will give me sugar water that’s more sugar than it is water,
when he finds me,
dozing and dying and dusted in pollen,
because he learned about it in science class and he wants to be good,
so,
so good.
In my next life,
maybe he will help me,
because I’m too tired and too weak do anything but flutter,
and it’s so,
so hot out here in this bright and blazing world,
filled with undiscovered wonders just beyond my achingly limited reach.
In my next life,
I will want him to think that he saved me with his sugar water,
more sugar than water
even as I lay dying,
and I will want him to think that my absence in the flower bud the next day is his doing,
because he did everything right.
Or maybe,
in my next life,
I will be a fox that dies while chasing a rabbit;
or a snow lion that desperately climbs the tallest mountains in search of food;
or a sheep sheared just a little too close;
or a goat that screams in the night,
stillborn babies at her feet;
or a fish with too many colors to live long enough for glory.
I could be a dog,
or a cow,
or a lizard or a snake.
I could be a cat,
or a horse,
or an elephant,
covered in gold and jewels and celebrated just for being alive,
hunted for greed and a little bit of ivory.
Or maybe I could be a bird,
bright and loud and mean,
with a wingspan fit for a god,
soaring just beneath the clouds.
Or,
maybe,
just maybe,
in my next life,
I could be me again and get it right this time.
In my next life,
maybe I could stop hurting so much,
and maybe I could be kinder.
In my next life I could wash babies,
massage gentle soaps into their soft,
bruisable skin with more tenderness than I should be allowed.
Maybe I could hold them to my breast,
naked and squirming and trusting because they have to be,
because they rely on me to keep them safe,
and fed and loved,
so they can hear my heartbeat,
warm and protected in the arms of a glowing saint.
Maybe in my next life I will remember to the end,
not forgetting that I loved,
who I loved,
why and when and how I loved,
how I ached and burned.
Maybe in my next life I will get to see you again,
and maybe I will get to experience that passion that I wanted so,
so badly,
when you run your fingers down my face and press kisses into my hairline.
Maybe in my next life I will get to yearn,
and maybe I will get to be sad,
and angry,
and full of so much excitement for being alive that it will be hard to breathe sometimes.
Maybe I will be dangerous,
and happy,
and better,
and maybe I will realize that everything I have is exactly what I need,
and then maybe,
just maybe,
I won’t suffer quite so much,
or quite so intensely.
In my next life,
maybe I will learn how to love and be loved,
utterly,
truly,
ardently,
and maybe I will learn to understand more about what should and should not be in this mess of a universe.
Maybe,
in my next life,
I will be a bumblebee,
or a dog or a horse or a cow,
or an elephant decorated in more ways than one,
or a bird that can’t seem to fly high enough.
Or maybe I will be a goat that screams or a fox that dies,
or a snake,
or a lizard,
or a sheep sheared a little too close,
or a snow lion in search of something,
anything,
to fill her belly.
Or maybe I will be a cat,
or a colorful fish doomed at birth to be eaten by something much bigger than her.
Or maybe,
and this one is my favorite,
I will get to be me again,
as I am now,
except that this time I will understand what happiness is when I find it,
and I will not let it go.
- this fable teaches us, a story in parts