I don’t remember the day I died.
I sometimes wish I could.
There were witnesses, so I know it happened.
There is documentation, somewhere stuck in a drawer.
If I could remember the day I died,
Would I be able to live knowing,
Live holding, no, clinging to the fact
I will never die again?
I witness others on their day
And rejoice the washing from death to life.
I tell myself to remember,
Remember the day I died.
Dead and buried with Christ
Saint Paul says twice*
Raised from the dead
Alive with Christ, baptized.