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Death with Dignity

I would have exhumed you with my fingernails
And reclaimed my childhood from your finitude.
But nature never mourned you before taking you back
This thick blanket of dirt
Won’t let me in.
There is so little I know of you.

I do not know whether the sunlight
Can infiltrate your coffin
And warm your bones
I do not know whether you can stretch in the morning
I don’t even know,
How many inches of your skin,
Are left.

It has been around a thousand and ninety five mornings,
It only took God three days to
Resurrect his son.

Note: The title of this poem was borrowed from Sufjan Steven’s eponymous song

Contributor
Theresa Sahyoun

Theresa Sahyoun, born and raised in Lebanon, is a fourth-year student at the American University of Beirut, double majoring in English Literature and Philosophy. She served as president of the Red Oak Club and the Philosophy Student Society. Outside of campus, she has volunteered with NGOs such as Relief and Reconciliation for Syria and the A project. In terms of writing, she won second prize at the LAU’s women’s institute art competition and has participated in storytelling through her poetry with Cliffhangers and Cantina Sociale.

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