Death Bed Poetry: Emily Dickinson
Deathbed Poetry Contest
Sponsored by: Daniel Henry Rodgers
Contest Judged: 11/1/2025 6:35:00 AM
( 3rd place )
Written: October 10, 2025
"I must go in, the fog is rising." ~ Emily Dickinson
The fog moves gently through the field,
touching each blade as if to say goodbye.
It leans against her windowpane,
a quiet guest come to lead her home.
Outside, the birds have gone quiet.
The air holds its breath;
She gazes once more at her fading garden,
where colors drift into soft gray peace.
Her lips part only to release a sigh,
the sound of something setting free.
No struggle, only the stillness
that comes when light meets rest.
And when the fog has lifted,
the room keeps her calm behind…
a hush, a whisper,
a bloom of white where her spirit passed.
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