A Thin Remembrance

The amethyst on my pendant is placed precisely in the middle of my chest:
a soft place within;
the edge of a window 
ruffled curtains
the wisp of lace
my family in full sun
I remember.

I told
I observed
I touched
I discerned
I hoped
I felt
I appreciated
I was free

I am light—
I am multi-dimensional
I am the spark.

I lived an imperfect life.
I died a natural death.
I am pulled to the future
from the past.


A baby living in the now
born of female biology
enters the world
through darkness
of immortality
interprets herself
very differently 
from where I am.

It is unknown if she is aware.
It is unknown if her soul is intact.

Her irises dart. 
She hears a picture
an archive 
a recorded voice

the sweetness of her essence
whispered prayers
new-born love
the tenderness
the holding


How do I tell her?
My voice lessens to 
fiction, synthetics;
here I stand
waving directionless
I cannot point to
unknown loss.

Riven by what is 
every particular sense of me
a thin remembrance:
an exhaled taste
an evaporated scent
stirs, huffs, flys away.


Engineering the Perfect Baby
MIT Technology Review, March 2015

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