When Death Comes

When death comes
like the hungry bear in autumn;
when death comes and takes all the bright coins from his purse
to buy me, and to cast me aside
like a leaf, that sings to me in its own language
and knows not the reason why—
I want to step through its door in a dance of joy,
and wait for the body of a wild creature.
When death comes,
I want to face it,
to be grateful for this life,
to be grateful for the colors seen and the seasons felt.
When death comes, I want to feel alive until the very last moment of what I have loved.

• Mary Oliver