death poetry

when the veil from the eyes is lifted
i stood by the open casement
the shadows of the ships
let us pity those who are better off than we are
candles toppling sideways in tomato cans
a sky that has never known sun, moon or stars
if the red slayer think he slays
see i give myself to you
when i was broke in london
with the meek, brown eyes
gone are the three, those sisters rare
perhaps it is no matter that you died
with joy and wonder