Hereafter

On the radio, the man waiting to die 
explains what he is doing to feed  
the stories of his life into a computer
program. The more stories he can tell
before his cancer claims him, the more
information the program will have 
to search through, so any family member
who has a question can hear an answer 
in his own voice, resembling one 
he might give, were he still alive. 

Perhaps it is better to spend the time
left to you, like this. Perhaps the sorrow
is too much, staring at a hospital wall or 
out a window at lake water crisscrossed 
with shadows of ghosts. Some people 
don't wish to be burned when they pass;
some want to go into the earth simply, without
wrappers, so they can grow back as a tree. None
of us know what it really means to be immortal.
You only know you want something of you to go on.