The Wings Of The Morning Poem by John F. McCullagh

It is quiet, even peaceful here,
out past Hana on Maui’s Isle.
Near Palapala Ho'omau Church,
This is where I have come to bide.
To listen to the Ocean’s roar,
to find what peace is left to me.
I could not hide from you, oh Lord
Not in the uttermost depths of the sea
My time is fast approaching when
I will lose this quarrel with disease.
The air is warm and liquid here,
It has a perfumed fragrance that
would bid a younger man to stay.
but Cancer bids me to fade away
As I will, I’ve seen the stone,
simple enough to mark my space
In the Churches’ graveyard here
my friend Sam has made a place
I recall, when youth was dawning,
You gave me the Wings of the Morning.
Was it simple vanity
that made me venture the unconquered sea.
I took off from Roosevelt field alone
and touched down in Paris, far from home.
Now I am far from home again,
See where Death approaches, like a friend.