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I am no more worthy to be mourned than I was worthy to be born.  Had the proportional proximity of my mother’s abortion cut any closer, you might consider me a mystery.  No headstone should you wish to visit me.  Our relational symmetry won’t be held sacred.  I have cultivated a habit of appearing at the funeral rites of others  only to culminate irony when I miss my own.  When you pull my rigid corpse beyond the threshold of my home, take it directly to be consumed in some liquefied tomb, make me bone ash powder at the base of a new tree or entomb me in stone and cast me out to sea.

Now  continue operating in the world as if I still exist.  There is neither a single dance, open mic nor Market Day which for my absence should be missed.  Celebrate me with movement being consumed in the work of building community.  Become an instrument in the band playing an infinite orchestration of action oriented unity like you and me were one entity and you wanted to make sure I didn’t forget.

What Would Tekhen Do (WWTD)?

never be afraid to scratch / white out / or edit your life / scrap the poem / or rip the page / stop reciting and leave the stage

read every day / write every day / the mantra

advocate involvement / where others watch from the sidelines / position them to play a role in the picture

build something to last

……..life continues still.