Deathwards Go I
Deathwards go I—
Through this needle’s narrowing eye
Called Life, —
With mortal Thread stitched—.
If garment be weaved—
From Life by the Weaver’s loom;
Then weaved was
I by Him— ‘til worn and creased
Out of shape into Death’s cold womb—.
Post Comments
Poetrysoup is an environment of encouragement and growth so only provide specific positive comments that indicate what you appreciate about the poem. Negative comments will result your account being banned.
Please
Login
to post a comment
Turn off ads, get more exposure for your poetry, and get more features with a
Premium Membership.
