Once I realized my time
To die had come,
I wanted to weep,
Like in a hollow husk
Of an undone hero,
Bent on the safe
And rumpled bed.
I thought I would not stop
Weeping for the love
Of myself.
The sudden join with the departed
I never thought I would
Rage against, before seeing
The face of my God,
At the sloped corners of my bed.
I wailed in it as my coffin
As if already dead.
Then, I saw the visits of Angels.
They hid in unlikely spaces,
Hovering quietly,
With subtle cues seeming belated.
Their impenetrable light emanated.
May it be an arrival, a deliverance,
Maybe tonight?
Their mystic message made it so
That I was at peace to finally sleep.
The incompleteness of my life
No longer followed me, it seemed
Rather to make my life unique.
Here now, I will exit hidden,
Through the back door,
The mention of it to the living, forbidden.
It meant the opened trap from
The life we may have meant to be living.
The place I hope I’m headed
Is that place where eternal life is given.
There, the promise too that I will be arisen.
The place that is called by most, Heaven.
I make peace with the thought of
Angels, though my expectations
Perceive they arrive too late.
Now trusting the passage
as I looked up
At their euphoric light of space
So to finally, oh finally,
Look at my Lord in the Face.
Empathy is Poetry 