What does one do in these bad days,
my mind that of an old woman should
I to listen to my soul? It is in old age
that we try to be kind, in younger days
we walk through life without worry and
Youth life passionate and wild, then within
time the aged returns to the days of a child.
I do not ask from my bed of death to be free,
I do ask that my God let me die in dignity.
I ask that death allow me to find the freedom
that my life denied; that I am strong when my
family is at my side. Spare me of the whisperings
of a crowded room, let there be a ceremonious
mood and not one of gloom. I have lived without
glory or fame; no one will remember my name.
No one knows when I must face my death, only
God knows when I will take my last breath.
While the world around me in silence lies, move
me outside so I can see sunshine once more before
I die. Let it bathe me in the wonder that I was born,
across my face its beauty spread, I ask only for your
smiles of love when I am dead. I pray for no sickroom,
no mortal strife, no turmoil for a little breath, let it be a
natural passing, no struggling with death. Let me go
composed, fearless, mind clear, willing to let my spirit
go somewhere else to wait for everyone; that to me is
Poets Note: “This creation of my soul would be my infinite hope when death knocks upon my door.”