Not Sad

Not Sad 
Not sad 
Agirl said it made her happy 

Jesus,God upon the throne. 
Charles,your servant all alone. 
Take my hand as I go through. 
Deaths door. 
I will not make money my GOD. 
Or even this world my home. 
Accept my Spirit as I leave. 
This Mortal. 
TO GO HOME. 

Charles Robert Hice 

Copyright ©2006 Charles Hice
Copyright © | Year Posted 2006

Poem

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Book: Diverse Voices: The Poetry of Human Rights and the Pursuit of Peace