Vasquez
As a child frightened of the night
in my rooms I laid
Blanket to chin – fingers white knuckled
my eyes did strain for Him.
Death will come in dust and robes
to carry me away.
Time did pass so slow – so slow
Time did pass so slow.
Battle lost to sleep
my lids did fall
to rise again at dawn.
Huddled now in sable light
my mangle leg all pain –
Death has come not in robes and dust
but the waiting palm of man.
Eager to meet my foe –
excited I take his hand –
Ready – at last – to sacrifice
to end the eternal war.
Becoming 