Be Sure to Cut My Hair

When I am dead, cut off all my hair,
Bury me in my best clothes,
And put new shoes on my feet.
In the grave my hair will grow and curl,
As it did after chemo was complete.

So when I am brought before God,
Through pearly gates, on streets of gold,
On the last great Judgment Day,
My soul may be dingy and frayed,
But my hair will be curly and neat!

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This Poems Story

I am a breast cancer survivor. During the course of my treatment I underwent radiation and chemo. The chemo caused my hair to fall out. After chemo my hair grew back. To my delight, it was curly and more manageable! I've always heard that one's hair continues to grow after death. So I had the idea to write a funny poem based on this knowledge. After the arduous treatment was over, I thought a little bit of macabre humor would give my family and me a welcome relief from all the seriousness.