I had never laid
my hands on death
as I laid my hands on the wounds
which would surely kill him.
Yet I felt nothing strange or
untoward – no pain or elevated
feelings, no frustration that death
would win again.
I knew then it was a pact,
death would not visit me until the very end,
until, on the last day, when
we both knew we would separate –
he to go on living, me to
celebrate freedom.
© I.D. Carswell 2007-01-23
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