The Death Of Mr Healy Poem by Sean Joyce

a man i never met
met his death
fishing in a storm
on a lake near
where i grew up

at the age of ten
i saw us drown
our trashing panic
killed a part of me

i felt our fear
our lungs loaded
struggling fright
our ears exploding

the lake was sixty
something deep
’high as our church
i saw us drown

past the windows
sinking down
Christ in Heaven
to the ground

sixty something i still mourn
the death of Mr Healy.
His death made death be.
The death of Mr Healy
killed a part of me.