Greenland is white

When I die, not if
— there is no if
When I die, I want
to go saying Thanks.
For the wilderness of my heart
from the depths of my everlasting soul.
Thank you for bare feet, soft beds,
fresh baked bread.
For the wave in my sister’s hair and the thrilling feel
of a pen looping across the paper.
Thank you for unfathomable vistas
atop mountains
and from aircraft circumnavigating
the earth.
For the blazing sunrise on the horizon.
For the soft embrace of my mother’s hand
when she feels her love for me.
For the tender way my dad taught me to be tough.
For cinnamon flavoured gum, the compassion
among strangers, and the relief
oh, the sweet relief, of taking my bra off at the end of the day.