| General Poetry
posted September 10, 2016
Rondeau for potlatch
This fear of death
This fear of death's consuming me
the shadow will not set me free
Can all I am just go away?
To think and die, perchance to pray
Oh, Christ in heaven, must this be?
To pick death o'er ignominy
Don't make me choose, oh Lord's my plea.
Forgive me, God, is all I say
This fear of death.
My youth is just a memory
but blood is pumping ardently.
An ancient wreck the people say--
he loves existence anyway.
To what refuge can old men flee
this fear of death?
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