Near the Bed of the Dying - 10 Feb 2007

By my bedside she would stand,

Touch my arm, touch my face.

By my bedside she would cry,

And look upon me when others turn away.

By my bedside she would read,

the Blake and Rilke to sooth me.

By my bedside she would sing,

an angelic verse that I never did hear.

By my bedside she would stay,

my agony eating me from inside out.

By my bedside she would stand on guard,

defending me from the demons that would want me.

By my bedside she would call,

call for the gods to help me find home.

In my bed I shall die without her,

And in her bed, she without me.

By her bedside I will no longer wish to be.