Composed by those who crossed my path,

please help me leave when I am lost -

this living will while sense retained,

as shadows fade I would be shade.

Why drive worn pulse when spirit drained,

breath into flesh past score of years?

And why retain frame, mummified,

my blood, fuel pump, preservative?

When those who love find I have left,

though bones remain entombed in skin,

and those I loved have left my stage,

the curtain dropped, their act complete,

accept permission for the wake.

Stephen Kingsnorth (Cambridge M.A., English & Religious Studies), retired to Wales from ministry in the Methodist Church due to Parkinson’s Disease, has had pieces published by on-line poetry sites, printed journals and anthologies, including The Parliament Literary Journal.  His blog is at 

https://poetrykingsnorth.wordpress.com/