The Only Way Is Through Poem by John F. McCullagh

I stand beside your open door
And look into the room.
A moment’s hesitation, just,
a chill of pending doom.

I confess I’ve feared this day,
And hope my sight proves wrong,
but you still and quiet lay, -
a pause within a song-.


Your body covered with a sheet
No stir, no breathe of air
Waiting, patient, for the boatman
with nothing to declare.

I hesitate a moment there
Unsure of what to do
Then quietly remind myself
my only way is through