my  death
a poem by  
 keith  o'connor
faces  by  ketih o'connor . 
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This was an emotionally  difficult poem to write.  In it  I  imaginatively   explore  feelings that I could experience if I were to die before my wife. 
My Death 

my memories 
are scrubbed 
of anger's dark sludge  
pure feelings  
my last years 
of life 
I am not ready 
from my bed 
I hear the clock strike 
I reach to my  love 
the grim reaper 
 at the bond 
to my wife 
slashed from my mate 
my heart bleeds 
in pain 
pulled through my window 
chained to the coach   
d r a g g e d 
through mud  
made from my tears 
 into the cold 
ever darkening night 
there is no heaven 
to stop this pain 
there is no hell  
to mask this pain 

keith o'connor 
Ottawa Canada 

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