I don’t know if I believe in reincarnation
but in a way, I find it terrifying –
in my darkest moments, with no comfort to be found in believing that, 
at least some day, all of this will end.

Unlearned lessons cannot be left behind,
when I shuffle off this mortal coil – no;
they will be there, waiting, in the next cycle,
as unavoidable as, well, death (and taxes).

To know I will cause others pain in this life
that will have reverberations in the next – for others and for me.

I don’t know if I believe in reincarnation
but in a way, I find it comforting –
in my darkest moments, to know there is always another chance to learn, 
to make things better, to make amends.

Not about biggest house or most money,
but lessons learned and wisdom gained, to carry me into the next cycle.
To think of friends I haven’t made yet,
but will someday, in some other lifetime.

To know I will love fiercely in this life,
and love will have reverberations in the next – for others and for me.

And anyways, reincarnation or single-cycle, 
isn’t there something precious either way?

My daughter and I may have circled around
in a soul-dance for many lives,
each other’s mothers, sisters, best friends.
A familiarity, recognition – soul knowing soul,
as we take another turn together through the universe.
My daughter and I may only have this one life,
and every moment is precious even the ones filled with anger and groans;
there’s just this one life to express all our love for each other.

My sons, what does it mean that they are twinned –
are their souls working out some millennia -old enmity,
through their howls and tackled punches?
How many times have they been brothers,
with a camaraderie and understanding exclusively their own?
Are they simply the result of fate –
one egg that managed to divide into two,
binding them at such a cellular level that of course, their cells remember when they were once one;
and therefore they reenact – and rebel – accordingly.

I don’t know if I believe in reincarnation.
Maybe this is one life, strung with other lives like pearls in a necklace
that the universe wears around its neck.
Or maybe this life is a single, solitary blossom,
which opens at dawn and dies at dusk and never the like will be seen again.

But the necklace and the blossom both whisper to me, 
and somehow, the words from both are the same.