I enjoyed this collection of two short stories and a poem about bones; the bleached reminders of the lives they once held. I recommend reading this book. I mostly enjoyed the perspective on treasuring remainders of our physical presence, however, it still hasn't changed how I feel about what caused the disappearance 🥲
Additionally, I don't think I really appreciated the author's persistence in being remembered after death as a consolation to the negative view/fear of death. Cause frankly, the majority won't be. But it's also possible the bones are supposed to be the remembrance memento. However, one won't be able to keep bones of dear human ones..so, it just makes you feel worse when you think of her argument that way. But anyway, on a lighter note, here is a part of the poem in the book that I enjoyed:
...Cont'd...
When all has rotted away,
Pieces of our bodies scattered away,
Bones remain _
Cleaned by nature, free of blight,
Kissed by the sun and bleached clean white.
Pure reminders
Of lives that dimmed with fight.
Gather the bones of the dead to you,
Hold them tenderly and remember their value,
And listen gently,
To what they leave in residue.
"I lived. I lived. I lived."
They cry. Their words, once adrift,
Now whisper to you,
Reminding you why you exist,
...Cont'd...