The lovely bones.

These were the lovely bones

that had grown around my absence:

The connections - sometimes tenuous, sometimes made at great cost,

but often magnificent -

that happened after I was gone.

And I began to see things in a way

that let me hold the world without me in it.

The events that my death brought were merely the bones of a body

that would become whole at some unpredictable time in the future.

The price of what I came to see as this miraculous body had been my life.