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When I am gone…
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the sea inside of me I can suffer all pain except one.
In the end, I am below ground where there is no sun.
When life was lived so quickly, all time spent.
Within a body that I could not own but only rent.
My pack of hours like so many dreary tasks each working day.
Days spent serving peripheral people of frozen concern.
They are like those worms that will squirm and turn.
When I am gone!
When I am off this battleground.
When the echoing gunshots have all been silenced.
When worms turn me into earth.
If the winter chills me so, that I cannot bear.
How will I fare way down there?
When the holes in my soul widen to gapping chasms or more like a bottomless tear filled lake.
When all my one-time failures are long past, moments of my last exhaled heartache.
When I am gone!
Who asked for the Pastors monologue; he did not live inside of me?
To stone my heart turned hear my silent plea.
Words I meant to say but without chance, words I never said.
Only words heard!
Those words as hard as a marker placed above my head.
When I am gone!
No! I will not go to the muddy brown ground!
No sense of who I was, and left with no sights to see
No grace to my ears of all life's sweet sound
When I am gone!
Burn me in the hottest fire of the sun.
Something close to heat of all my life's passion!
When I am gone!
Will summer winds fill with my dust?
Will breezes trace of roses and lilacs, odors of my essence?
The shrunken powder of my life.
Will my spirit sail on sweet air, to my beloved stormy sea,
that sea
that was alive inside of me?
When I am gone…
