Hey all! Happy almost-weekend!
This poem I’m sharing today is one I wrote as part of a class assignment in which we were to describe the emotions of an elderly Christian fearing death despite his or her beliefs about life after death. An interesting concept, to be sure, but I misunderstood the assignment. We weren’t supposed to write whole poems about it, just jot down a few metaphors to describe the situation.
So this poem, which I actually really like the end result of, sits in my notebook never to see the light of my professor’s desk lamp (if he even has a desk lamp; I forget). To me this is a shame, because I really tapped into my inner Emily Dickinson for this one. So I thought I’d share. Without further ado, here is
Death of a Christian
I had a dream that Death had come
to steal me from my bed.
I fought it, kicked it, socked its brow;
I woke up drenched in sweat.
The dreadful thing is, Death is near,
and I who won dead souls
now shudder, wishing I’d more time
to fan to flame the coals.
I told them they were guaranteed
to taste the bread of life,
that sin was nailed to the cross
to never be revived.
But oh! what different tunes I sing,
me! shaking like the ground
when finally the freight train comes
and drowns us in its sound.
Death whispers to me like a friend,
assures me of my fate,
that I am yet a child of Him
Who’ll meet me at the Gate.
And I believe, yes, in my heart;
I know it in my brain.
But something in my bones still quakes
to hear Death’s drum refrain.
“No guilt in life, no fear in death”,
my favorite hymn does sing.
So why I am I still full of fear,
for I shall see my – “