My atoms, like yours, will one day be dispersed
to the wind like the seeds of a trillion dandelions.
They will be taken up and taken in,
become the ground that soaks up grief,
and the love that springs from it.
Atoms now clustered into freckles on my arms will move
to breath, to cloud, to hurricane.
What once was “I” will make its way, cycle by cycle,
into the feathers of a great horned owl.
(Smile when you hear us in the quiet of night.)

Molecules embedded in my bones will someday return to the stars.
They never belonged to me—
I merely moved through them,
and they, though continually replaced,
were known as me.
Eventually, there will be a shuddering stillness
and then, great
fiery transformation.

Maybe a few of my old atoms will be taken up an oak tree by its roots.
Or find their way to a sunflower petal,
a pineapple,
a tiny ice crystal on a windowpane.
I hope some will dance in the breath of an infant’s cry for milk,
while others rest in the down of your softest pillow.
Where will I be? There will I be,
close to your dreams.

~ Robyn Rydzy