A Sigh Poem by Elia Michael

I sigh a holy sigh of thanks to Him
As I am lying here awaiting death,
A faint respiratory kind of hymn
With laboured, rasping, dying sort of breath.
I chant a solemn prayer, a liturgy;
Forgive my sins, I was not always good
And I regret this fact so bitterly,
I could have been better, I know I could.
From time to time I had an evil thought
I should have turned the other cheek, but I
With vengeful arrogance and spite, had sought
To carry it out. But now as I die,
Oh Lord I come to you in heartfelt prayer,
So take my heart, examine all that's there.