Remember Me

The day will come
when my body will lie
upon a white sheet
neatly tucked under four corners
of a mattress located
in a hospital busily occupied
with the living and the dying.

At a certain moment a doctor will determine
that my brain has ceased
to function and that, for all intents
and purposes, my life has stopped.

When that happens, do not attempt
to instill artificial life
into my body by the use of a machine.
And don't call this my deathbed.
Let it be called the Bed of Life,
and let my body be taken from it
to help others lead fuller lives.

Give my sight to the man
who has never seen a sunrise,
a baby's face or love in
the eyes of a woman.

Give my heart to a person
whose own heart
has caused nothing but endless
days of pain.

Give my blood to the teenager
who was pulled from the wreckage of his car,
so that he might live to see his
grandchildren play.

Give my kidneys to one who depends
on a machine to exist from
week to week.

Take my bones, every muscle,
every fiber and nerve in my body
and find a way to make
a crippled child walk.

Explore every corner of my brain.
Take my cells, if necessary,
and let them grow so that someday,
a speechless boy will shout at the
crack of a bat and a deaf girl
will hear the sound of rain against
her window.

Burn what is left of me
and scatter the ashes to the winds
to help the flowers grow.
If you must bury something,
let it be my faults,
my weaknesses and all prejudice
against my fellow man.
Give my sins to the devil.
Give my soul to God.

If, by chance,
you wish to remember me,
do it with a kind deed
or word to someone who needs you.
If you do all I have asked,
I will live forever.

By Robert N. Test