On The Verge Of Death Poem by mark anthony st. rose

As he lay steadfast upon the bed,
His soul illumined like a persistent bright star in an overcast dark sky,
glimpsed I more and more, 'why? '
His body receded spirit predominate,
And innocence his head like a halo shun.
His breath were few, sparingly
He smiled as if to mock the haunts of death.
Heedless of sickness, void of fear.
He then utters a joke that I smile amidst tears.
“Jeffrey, the tears also come with my prayers.”
Faith on bended knees asking why of fate.
Asking of God’s abandoned mercies – too late.



copyright@2009 by Mark Anthony St. Rose. All rights reserved.