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The Battle

The stilled voice; the raspy breath

A gentle beep and the smell of death

The eyes are open and yet they see

Far more than me

A small shudder as the devil tries

Just one last trick, one last disguise

This final battle is hard fought

But I don’t believe the soul is caught

One breath is calm, but then is gone

It’s over and the soul is sure

To dwell with God forevermore

Perhaps.

But what about us left behind?

Are we stuck in an endless grind?

My best friend,

Is this the end?

To turn to prayer….

               Or perhaps to despair

What to do when your whole life

Your answer to all this strife

Is buried down, down, down

In the cold hard ground?

Loneliness—now an old friend

How to learn to love again?

Many nights spent crying

My soul I feel it dying

Perhaps it is a lie

Perhaps we don’t die

But fade from lack of love.

This poem is about: 
Me

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