The Death Of Mr Healy
a man i never met
met his death
fishing in a storm
on a lake near
where i grew up
at the age of ten
i saw us drown
our trashing panic
killed a part of me
i felt our fear
our lungs loaded
struggling fright
our ears exploding
the lake was sixty
something deep
’high as our church
i saw us drown
past the windows
sinking down
Christ in Heaven
to the ground
sixty something i still mourn
the death of Mr Healy.
His death made death be.
The death of Mr Healy
killed a part of me.
poem by Sean Joyce
Added by Poetry Lover
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