My Death

I seem to be on a gruesome roll lately - just kind of in the doldrums I guess. Read what I posted on October 4. I started this poem about 2 months ago, finished it a few minutes ago. Even now, I'm not sure that it's completed. So for what it's worth, maybe it will make us think.

My skin and bones is what you'll see
In a box, but that's not me.
I won't speak and I can't hear,
But I'm alive; that's not me there.
That's just my sad old dwelling place,
Where I lived while in Life's Race.
I grew tired some time ago.
Seems friends and kin had turned to foe.
Wishing I could stay in bed -
"Why get up?" is what I said.
God's breath in me still raised my chest,
Though it got hard to do my best.
But God saw fit to keep me here -
His plan to me was not so clear.
So for awhile, I tried and tried.
I prayed a lot and sometimes cried.
Frustrated when I'd try to teach
God's Word to some, but could not reach.
My friends must choose; I've sown The Seed.
It's up to them: ignore, or heed.
Yes, I do hear, but not the same.
I can't reply, but glad you came.
You see my body lying here.
It's fine if you don't shed a tear.
I hope I've not caused you to sin
With something that I did "back when",
But in my life, you found some good -
I walked "The Walk" as best I could.

- by Netagene -