Death Poem by Paul Schneiter

He has a voice, and it taunts my being
trumpeting a truth earth-ages ringing.
I sense it now in my lack of seeing
a distant dirge someone is singing.

No need to seek a doctor's analysis
the body molds messages abundant.
Pain in the arm, creeping paralysis
seeking for more is dumbly redundant.

The voice I hear my frame affirms
grows louder with passing years.
Each new ailment coldly confirms
I'm due to leave this valley of tears.

I am his captive caged in his chains
bound for where my body is to go.
But faith in Christ resolves all pains
for He selflessly blunted the blow.