Youth ran away toward the front,
as death pursued from the rear
Catching me inside the paradoxical
whipsaw of life
I stopped, as the boy continued into the distance;
but the reaper stopped too
Wanting me to run some more,
preferring to attack from behind
As I turned to face my stalker, his eyes went down;
and his presence cast no shadow
He took two steps back, but I reached for his hand
while saying:
“Walk with me, keep up with me;
your job here still not finished
The boy has indeed gone; but
the man is not yet ready to go”
(Villanova Pennsylvania: August, 2017)