I Have Never Been A Friend Of Death

I have never been a friend of Death.
Why do I hate him so?
The more I race away
from him the closer I get,
I know.

I wonder if
he’s lonely,
if God has made
him a friend;
the Doorkeeper
to that which is
really not the end.

I do not wish to live in fear of how I may go.
Why do they call him Grim?
And what does he sow?

For if he is the Reaper then there must have been a seed.
I am the planting and I wonder,
what kind of harvest will I be?

January 1, 2007


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