In My Old Age/I Collect The Dead Poem by Shalom Freedman

In my old age
I collect the dead
as if they were
Pins to pierce my soul with
Pains to alarm my heart with
Songs to sweeten my sorrow with
Dreams to revive my memories with
Griefs to torment my rage with
Questions to haunt my God with
Laments to augment my desolation with

I collect the dead
As if they were all lost chapters of my life
And promises of my own unending end forever

I collect the dead
And live with them now
As if they were proof
Of how I once lived
As I will never be the same again.