Finishing

I think of my mother in Florida
finishing herself,
putting final touches on
the work of art that is her life;
at the last, getting the glaze,
now that she has passed 100,
just to her satisfaction.

When she fountains out of her body
like a trillion particles of light,
she will be perfectly
finished. And I, in my own
finishing journey,
keep on honing, and adding,
deleting, and rubbing, buffing.

But after all our finishings?
Our containers break, unmake
into their clay again. I train for this
by lying down at night to be a dream,
by blinking on and off from particle to wave,
by pausing when my breath goes out, practicing
the zoop from finished self to cosmic Self.

©Susa Silvermarie 2019