Under this canopy of blackened earth
I make my entrance into a deeper dark.
No sun, no star to guide me from the one
into the other; only this yellow flame
to mark the pause between, to light the gate
from life to death, and while its feeble gleam
wavers with me here, my life will run.

Now I am alone; perhaps the better way
to meet an enemy or greet a friend.
If I am denied the company of fellow men,
or even the solace of some dumb beast to share my death
then none can say He died in fear and none can say
A child again, he cried in darkness for a mother’s arms
Such is the charity of some who live
to reserve for those who die , like me , alone,
a hero’s grave. My battles are all won
by others fighting against their wish for death.

And as for me , I have met my death before
once in each day’s life. Familiar it stood
close by my shoulder as my muscles strained
tense in the feeble glow of a man-made light
to rip her fruits from the womb of earth.
And I , glancing in casual fear beyond the end
set by the finite glimmer to the infinite dark
heard the harsh and creaking voice and smiled.
This was a death whose horrors I despised.

But there was another ; one whose wheedling voice
met me, as stepping from the lonely vaults of earth
I blinked, uncertain in the light of day.

At least I called it death , though now I see
it bore my name , it was a part of me.