The Man and His Dragons (Original Poem)

In bed he lays
for his terribly sick body
tells him to slay
the dragons
of his flesh--
the gluttony of his gut
and the evil thirst of his throat.

His flesh is cursed
with a poisoned blood
and a sinful heart.
He cannot kneel
nor lie prostrate
to pray.
But he lies on his back
and wonder
if God is so remote.

In bed he stays
and knows that death
is just a gasp away.
Weak and delirious,
he calls out the Name
above all names.
Faced with dragons,
he then stiffens
after uttering,
"Save me, Jesus!"

The Body, When Mourning (An Original Poem)

THE BODY, WHEN MOURNING

There is a languid drooping
of the head and the neck
A slouching of shoulders
to shelter a heart, bleeding.
A sad bending
of spine, weighed
by multiple oppressions.

There is a weakening
of the knees, hurt
from the kneelings.
A slow collapsing
of limbs and legs,
lured by earth
for a moment's surrender.

There is a falling down.
A breaking down.

The body's tribute
to dust.

DEATH (Original Poem)

*Death*

your weapon is hidden
from us
and
it is for us

not a sting,
not a bullet,
not a scythe,
but
it is something
just for us

your mouth is shut
you never will tell

you just give it to us
and we take it
eventually

until we give up
the ghost

you do your job
pretty well

a round of applause