A FAREWELL

One day
When I reach life's end
I’ll have this to say
To anyone who cares

This is a farewell to you all
Beyond me lies eternity
And after that
Who knows?

The journey should be hard
Nothing is easy
And this is a send-off
To all the world

My body will float in coldness
Organs won’t decay
Soul won’t sink
Brain will remain

This ship won’t flounder
It might reach eternity
While the rest is history
I will live on

Farewell cruel world
Hello distant future
Beyond the port of death
I’ll come back to existence

SPACE AND TIME
Within space and time
Galaxies float in ether
shining across the eons
And thrashing in a soup of gas

Magnificent nebulas scatter around
Crawling across the distances
As hazy bands of infinity
While stars erupt in a sea of protons

Red giants envelop solar systems
Their pregnant bellies scattering atomic particles
As rings of gas expand forever
Life is born from their seeds

Beyond the universe's infinite bounds
Another one exists
Galaxies fill an alien sky
Ringed planets go around hot suns

A replica of me stares at the heavens
Anti matter eyes rejoicing in the spectacle
Of milliards of suns
In a soup of gas and dust

ODE TO CRYONICS

I want to see the future
Rolling down the ages
And nurturing the universe
Along with my dreams

Let me awaken
In a new millennium
When thoughts of death
Belong to the past

I might stand here
In a few hundred years
Memories of a past life
In my new brain

Hurrah to cryonics
Thumbs up for immortality
Living forever rules
Death is my foe

ROSIE
As the tape measure snapped back, I thought of my wife Sarah and me moving into our new home. It was all bare bricks at the moment, but would look lovely when decorated. I heard someone in the room. I looked up expecting to see Sarah but only saw a little girl in the corner. She could only have been four.
“Hello,” I said, thinking she was one of the neighbours. “What are you doing here?”
She smiled.
“Where’s mummy?” I went on puzzled.
I remember vividly her curly brown hair tied in a ponytail. My small visitor looked at me while fiddling with her hands. Then she ran out of the door.
As Sarah came in after her, I frowned. “Where did she come from?”
“Who?”
“The little girl.”
“I only saw you by the door.”
I searched everywhere but didn’t find the child.
We packed our things and moved into the house. I forgot all about the child as we painted and decorated our new home. We renovated the building, added an extra room and planted climbing roses by the porch.
“I wonder who the child was,” I said one day.
Sarah shrugged. “You must have dreamt of her as I went to the shops.”
“She was as real as you and me.”
Sarah thought the child must have been a ghost and contacted the church. A young priest arrived early the next morning.
“I’m Father George,” he said.
He carried a bible outside his case. As Sarah took him around the house, he sprinkled holy water while chanting in the rooms. After an hour of praying, he declared the house free of spirits.
“The ghost won’t annoy you anymore,” he said.
I remembered meeting the child on dark nights, when the house was quiet. I stayed awake long after Sarah had gone to sleep, listening to the sounds of the night. Sarah didn’t pay much attention to me, busy with her gardening.
One day she didn’t feel well and vomited in the toilet. I forgot all about the ghost as I saw my wife’s pale face. She contorted on the floor holding her stomach.
“I’m dying,” she said.
I called an ambulance while Sarah held her stomach and rolled on pain.
“It must be appendicitis,” I said.
Sarah cried. “I don’t want to die.”
As they took her into casualty, I hoped Sarah would be fine. We had so many dreams when we had married a few months before. I watched as a young doctor prodded my wife’s stomach.
“You are about to give birth to a baby,” he said.
Sarah cried and I nearly fell out of my chair. She had been getting fatter, but I never thought she could be pregnant. She held her stomach and screamed. A nurse helped her to take out her trousers and she cried on the wave of a new contraction.
I held her hand until the pain eased away.
“Can she have an epidural?” I asked.
The doctor shrugged. “The contractions are coming often now. It’s too late.”
After a few more painful contractions, the baby appeared. As the doctor held the infant in his arms, I tried to understand the full extent of what had just happened. The child’s first cries brought me out of my paralysis.
“It’s a girl,” the doctor said.
Sarah held the baby while the doctor cut the umbilical cord.
She smiled. “Isn’t she beautiful?”
The doctor cleaned the child while Sarah stroked her wet hair.
“I want to call her Rosie,” she said.
As I touched her little hands, I felt a rush of love for the baby. I didn’t imagine I would become a father when I called the ambulance that morning.
“I wondered why I gained weight,” Sarah said.
Sarah had looked plump but we had eaten chips and frying food while decorating the house. I remembered those busy times when we had only met each other under the blankets during the night.
We left the hospital next morning with our newborn baby. I didn’t go to my job for a few days and helped Sarah to get acquainted with our child. I forgot all about the ghost as I helped her to feed and change the child’s nappies.
Our life with Rosie was a dream. She started to walk and talk early and was a clever child. She had created her own fantasy world in the backyard. According to her, fairies inhabited our garden and had a hiding place by the old fountain.
“Daddy,” she said one day as I mowed the grass. “The queen of the fairies has invited me to a party.”
I smiled. “Can I come too?”
Crawling inside the playpen, she looked at me from the window. “You wouldn’t fit in her tiny home.”
I pruned the plants as she reappeared from under her hiding place later on.
“How are the fairies?” I asked.
She shrugged. “They send me to a lot of places with their magic wand. They wave it, say the magic word and off I go.”
I wondered if her association with her fairy friends would harm her in any way but she seemed to be fine.
“She talks to herself constantly,” Sarah told me one day.
“She has an imaginary friend.”
“Is it the ghost?” she asked.
“Don’t be silly.”
I saw Rosie playing by herself the next day. She offered a cup to someone invisible while mumbling. As she turned to look at me, I noticed her curls flying in the gentle breeze.
She had a tea party in an enchanted world and I had a sense of déjà vus. Gathering my gardening tools, I made my way towards the shed.
“Daddy,” she called. “Do you want to meet my friends?”
I smiled. “All right.”
As I Crawled through the playpen’s entrance, I found myself in a world full of dollies. Sitting on the floor, she fed them imaginary food.
“We’re getting ready for the journey,” she said.
“What journey?”
“It’s a secret.”
I wondered about her words. Rosie liked outings. She would wake up in the early hours of the morning to help with the preparations.
After gathering her toy plates, she put them on a pile on the floor.
“I’m tired, daddy.”
I smiled. “We’ll eat first and then you’ll go to bed.”
She spoke of the fairies on our way back to the house.
“We are leaving tomorrow morning,” she said.
I felt worried. She planned to go on an imaginary journey on the eve of her fourth birthday. I took her up to bed after dinner whilst Sarah did the washing up.
“Daddy,” she said. “I want to hear the tale of sleeping beauty tonight.”
I nodded. Rosie slept by the time I had finished with the story. As I studied her pale face framed by the curly hair, I thought she looked like an angel.
Sarah appeared at the door. After sitting on the bed, she stroked our daughter’s hair.
“She’s going on a journey with her invisible friends,” I said.
“She talks about them all the time.”
“I’m not leaving her alone tonight,” I said.
Sarah smiled. “Don’t worry.”
After lying down on the next bed, I covered myself with the duvet. Sarah thought I fretted about nothing.
“She won’t go away,” she said.
“I wouldn’t be so sure.”
As Sarah went back to our bedroom, I thought of my daughter’s imagination. She talked to dollies, ate invisible food and went on imaginary journeys.
I dreamed of Rosie and the fairies that night. I saw them waving their magic wands as they flew up into the sky. They disappeared between the clouds that resembled dead branches of a tree.
Sunlight sneaked through the curtains as I opened my eyes the next morning. I thought Rosie was still asleep. Perhaps she had forgotten all about her trip.
I tiptoed to her bed but didn’t see her. I searched through the house as my footsteps echoed in the empty rooms.
“Rosie,” I called.
“She could be playing in the garden,” Sarah said.
As we looked inside the playpen, we saw her toy plates on the floor. The remains of the last fairy party had been left untouched.
“I will call the police,” I said.
I used the phone in the corridor while Sarah searched the surrounding fields. As I dialled the number of the local police, I heard someone in the room. I looked up expecting to see Sarah but saw Rosie by the door.
“Daddy,” she said.
She jumped into my arms and told me all about her latest adventure.
“We flew through the sky until we reached paradise,” she said.
“Where is it?” I asked.
She smiled. “Daddy, the walls had bricks and you said ‘hello’ to me while holding the tape measure. Then I ran into mummy.”

Daphne

Running down the path
Hair flying in the wind
Daphne looks back
Someone is chasing her

She rushes by a pond
Splashing in the mud
And flies by the trees
Crouching under a bush

As she hugs the branches
Spreading leaves around
Feet sink in mud
Reaching down to infinity

The stranger arrives
Disturbing the calm
Kicking the earth
Searching for her

Quiet within the bush
She looks at him
Leaves caressing her face
Body buried in mud

Her skin hardens
Branches grow out of hair
She communions with earth
As he kisses the leaves

MY THOUGHTS ABOUT DEATH
As a small child, I prayed in my bed to live forever, while my father looked at me from a half open door. The wish tp liver forever lingered during my childhood and adolescence. In 1967 I saw an article in Life Magazine about the first man that had been frozen in the USA. I was fifteen years old and imagined this man drifting through time while in suspended animation. He was called James Bedford. As I looked at the cryostasts where he was kept, I wanted my body to be frozen after my death. We lived in Palmira, a town in southern Colombia, and the idea of having my body cryonically preserved sounded like science fiction to my family.
My mother shook her head. “Who would like to live again?”
This life was hard and full of pain, and Cryonics was for people who had a lot of money. I tried to forget my dreams of immortality, as I finished my education and started college in the city of Cali.
I went to England a few years later to work as an Au-Pair. I still thought cryonics was for millionaires like my mother had said. Then I married and had children. I taught them to enjoy this life because once you die, you never come back. I didn’t think in Cryonics again.
One day I read an amazing article in a woman’s magazine. A couple had arranged to have their bodies preserved. They had paid the full cost of the procedure with a life insurance. My dreams of living forever came back to my mind as I read the story, and I decided to do it. I wanted to take my children to the future.
I had divorced my husband by then and my family thought I had lost my mind.
My father, a doctor in Palmira, was still alive and thought the idea was pure science fiction.
“You have a good imagination,” he said. “Cryonics is for millionaires.”
I thought he was wrong. I had to get a life insurance, and the bank would pay the American company after my death. Immortality was for everybody and not just for the very rich. I have a life insurance now and have arranged for some of my children to be frozen after death.
People are not frozen in liquid nitrogen anymore. They are vitrified. Vitrification is a glass solution at very low temperatures. It doesn’t damage the cells as much as liquid nitrogen does. I hope that by the time we die the procedure will have advanced a lot more, and we’ll wake up in the future with most of our memories and personalities. Doctors will use nanotechnology to repair our brain cells. We wouldn’t have a new chance of life if we had chosen to be buried or cremated.
I’m dreading the moment I have to die. I wish I could go in suspended animation before my heart stops. If a day I get cancer, I will travel to Switzerland, where I can kill myself while the cryonics team waits nearby. Then I won’t be afraid of death.

As Daphne runs down the path, her hair flying in the wind, she turns to look back. A man is running after her. She arrives at a crossroads. Taking the path on her right, she moves by a fountain, and the sound of the water muffles her footsteps.
She runs into the woods and hides behind a tree. She can’t see her pursuer but he has to be nearby. Something starts to happen. Daphne feels her feet stuck to the ground. She tries to move but her hair is entangled in one of the branches.
Her feet sink in the mud as she hugs the tree. Her hair, entangled in the branches, goes down with the rest of her body. He calls her while stumping on the ground. Daphne sinks up to her neck and his boot comes within inches of her face, but he doesn’t see her.
She stops sinking while the man rests on a boulder, then he walks away. Daphne can’t move and her skin hardens with the mud and water.