by Sean O’Neill

I said, “I want to be there when I die.
not gauzed miasmic like a corpse all day
and thrust asleep, sedated where I lie,
surrounded by my family who pray

that somewhere in my consciousness I can
still hear their sobbing over all the pain.
I want to see my relatives and scan
their faces with a conscious eye and brain.”

But will the act of dying be a dream,
or will I seize it by an act of will?
At what point will I wade the heavenly stream
and see His face and feel my senses thrill?

We each must face that end to be a saint,
but let it be a striding not a faint.

Sean O’Neill was born in Scotland, but has lived in the USA for the past 15 years and is a lay minister of a church in Lansing, Michigan. He has had poetry published in a variety of journals, including First Things, The Ottawa Literary Review, Living Bulwark, Reformed Journal, Clay Jar Review and American Literary. Sean has published 17 collections of poetry and is the author of five novels and four non-fiction books, including the bestselling How To Write a Poem: A Beginner’s Guide. He runs the Kolbitars Poetry Group in Lansing, Michigan, USA.