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I'm Maggie Smith, and this is the Slowdown. I have sort of an odd confession. I have a funeral playlist, a list of songs I want played at whatever my memorial service turns out to be. Occasionally I add to it, and now and then I remove songs once they've lost their shine. My kids have laughed about this. Mom, you're so dark. But I don't find it morbid at all. Really. I think of my funeral as the last party I'll ever throw, and I'll be there in spirit at least. How's that for a mom joke? I spent a lot of time choosing the music for my wedding years ago. Songs to play as guests arrived, songs for the cocktail hour, songs for the reception. Why wouldn't I put as much thought into my funeral? Music is incredibly important to me, and all of my most important memories come with a soundtrack. The Cure tapes I obsessively listened to in middle school, the Pixies and Liz Phair I played on repeat in high school, the Nico Case records I discovered in college and graduate school, and all of the music that's become part of my personal archive. Since Music is like a time capsule, isn't it? Listening to a song transports you right back to a time and place, and sometimes to a person. I hope everyone at my funeral agrees that the playlist is excellent and very me. I hope people tell stories anchored by those songs and that there is as much laughter as tears. I hope people drink and eat and sing along with Can't Hardly Wait by the Replacements and this Must Be the Place by the Talking Heads and Blonde on Blonde by Not a Surface. Most of all, I hope everyone there knows how much I loved being here on earth with them, how I would have loved to have stayed. How I hope, though I can't say I believe it, that we'll be together again. The speaker of today's poem imagines loved ones coming to their funeral, and they have some directives and some requests. This is a poem I love to share, and one I return to again and again. Gloria Mundi by Michael Kleber Diggs Come to my funeral dressed as you would for an autumn walk in the woods. Arrive on your schedule. I give you permission to be late, even without good cause. If my day arrives when you had other plans, please proceed with them instead. Celebrate me there, keep dancing, tend your gardens, live well, don't stop think of me forever assigned to a period, a place, a people remember me in stories, not the first time we met, not the last, a time in between. Our moment here is small. I am too, a worldly thing among worldly things, 1 part per 7 billion. Make me smaller still, repurpose my body, mix me with soil and seed, compost for a sapling. Make my remains useful, wondrous. Let me bloom and recede, grow and decay. Let me be lovely yet temporal, like memories, like mahogany. The Slowdown is a production of American Public Media in partnership with the Poetry Foundation. To get a poem delivered to you daily, go to slowdownshow.org and sign up for our newsletter. And find us on Instagram at Slowdown show and blueskylowdownshow.org. Hi, it's Maggie. The Slowdown helps you discover new poems and revisit old favorites. You can help us continue showcasing poetry from a diverse swath of authors by making a tax deductible gift. Head to slowdownshow.org donate today.
Podcast: The Slowdown: Poetry & Reflection Daily
Host: Maggie Smith
Episode Title: 1402: Gloria Mundi by Michael Kleber-Diggs
Air Date: November 24, 2025
This episode centers on the themes of mortality, remembrance, and the rituals we create around death. Host Maggie Smith opens with personal reflections on the music she would want played at her own funeral, exploring how songs connect to memory and identity. She then introduces and reads "Gloria Mundi" by Michael Kleber-Diggs, a poem offering alternative ways to approach funerals and legacy, urging gentleness, celebration, and a return to nature.
"I have sort of an odd confession. I have a funeral playlist...I don't find it morbid at all. Really. I think of my funeral as the last party I'll ever throw, and I'll be there in spirit at least. How's that for a mom joke?"
— Maggie Smith, 00:52
“Music is like a time capsule, isn't it? Listening to a song transports you right back to a time and place, and sometimes to a person.”
— Maggie Smith, 02:00
“Most of all, I hope everyone there knows how much I loved being here on earth with them, how I would have loved to have stayed. How I hope, though I can't say I believe it, that we'll be together again.”
— Maggie Smith, 02:50
“Come to my funeral dressed as you would for an autumn walk in the woods. Arrive on your schedule. I give you permission to be late, even without good cause.”
— Smith reading Kleber-Diggs, 03:14
“Celebrate me there, keep dancing, tend your gardens, live well, don't stop think of me forever assigned to a period, a place, a people”
— Smith reading Kleber-Diggs, 03:34
“Make me smaller still, repurpose my body, mix me with soil and seed, compost for a sapling. Make my remains useful, wondrous. Let me bloom and recede, grow and decay.”
— Smith reading Kleber-Diggs, 03:54
This episode of The Slowdown invites listeners to reconsider the rituals surrounding death, the mandate to grieve uniquely, and the urge to be celebrated for life's vibrancy rather than mourned solely for loss. Maggie Smith’s personal vulnerability sets the tone, bridging to Michael Kleber-Diggs’ poem, which offers a gentle counter-narrative to standard funerary customs. Both Smith’s anecdotes and the poem advocate for living well, remembering warmly, and allowing even farewells to be creative, compassionate acts.