Dying Alone

by John Herlihy

I do not fear dying alone,

All my life to solitude prone.

Who would I want at the end,

Who could to my needs tend?

Most of the time I fled the crowd,

By myself when my routine allowed.

Friend as stranger, stranger as friend,

Roads take many turns within the bend.

In taking leave, I always traveled alone,

All my possessions pared to the bone.

Me and my wheels on a carry-on bag,

My destination as numbers on a tag.

None can answer for me in my place,
At accounting I will show my true face.

Only I can answer when death calls,

The day disappears as darkness falls.

This time to take nothing with you,

Ash and spirit into a wind that blew.

Alone only for a moment, yes for now,

Content alone, a door opens somehow.

The angel of death awaits by my side,

The one true spirit that I can now abide.

To be ready, without excuse or deceit,

Ready one’s Creator finally to meet.

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Copyright © John Herlihy

Monday 5 May 2025