my  death
a poem by  
 keith  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  
delight  
my last years 
of life 
I am not ready 
when 
from my bed 
I hear the clock strike 
end 
I reach to my  love 
... 
the grim reaper 
slashes 
 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 
2039 
Ottawa Canada 
www.tinmangallery.com 
 

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