Scatter my hair to the wind.
Return my feet to the playgrounds and parks.
Give my ears to the forest
And let the leaves croon lullabies.
Brush my teeth. Floss.
Then, return my smile to my parents. It has always belonged to them.
Cast my eyes into the ocean. After so many tears,
Bathing in saltwater makes them feel at home.
Send my calves to Europe, my thighs to Beijing,
My kneecaps to the fields I grew up in.
Let these places know that I sang and danced my way through them.
I can’t walk on water, but my steps have led me to places
I would not hesitate to call holy land.
Offer my left hand to anyone who has ever held it,
Apologize to the people I hit in the third grade.
And the fifth grade.
And the seventh grade.
Tell them I am now the girl
Who never leaves home without band aids in her back pocket,
Hoping she’ll be able to offer them to someone.
Leave my right hand with the person who captured my heart.
In the event that no such person exists,
Return it to my uncle.
He has been behind almost every drawing I’ve made.
Give my journals to my daughter,
But cut out the bookmark ribbons first. Braid them into her hair.
They will help her keep her place when life has too many pages.
Turn the unfinished poems into writing prompts.
You’ll find hair bows in the top drawer of the dresser,
Underneath all the other stuff I didn’t know where to put.
Dig them out. Leave them on trees you encounter.
You’ll find memories in the fourth drawer.
Treat them gently. Leave them lying in your favourite places.
You see, my fragments belong
To other people and places and things
As much as they do to me.