Look away when I die

When I die, I wish not for my Death 

to become a spectacular exhibition.

Do not paint beautiful my decaying flesh

with your enshrouding tools of tradition.

Your gods and rituals have no place here.

My death is not a fountain for your tossed-in grief.

Nor is it for the believers and the criers.

Piling words on my casket will not grant you relief.

Please, leave your baggage at the doors;

I will sever all that together you and I have tied.

Gone will be the flesh that binds me; you still have yours.

My soul prays to the body in which I lived and died.

So look away now, return to your lives, indeed.

And just take heart in knowing that I have been freed.