The Flowers That Grow Within Poem by Amelie Ison

Let the ground have my body
So I can play hide and seek one last time.
Let the worms eat my flesh
So my death brings about something good.
Bury me where you'll remember me;
Where I can be happy again:
Where I can still climb the highest trees
And roll down hills—
I'll be friends with the breeze,
And let the bugs crawl over my hands
So I can feel their tiny footsteps,
Like I used to feel your hand on mine.
Where my body lies,
The earth is freshly disturbed
For a meadow to flourish:
So when flowers grow through my bones,
I will finally be beautiful.