Last Prayer

This sweet octogenarian, three-legged

with his wooden cane, prayed as usual

before our choir, blessing the forthcoming


service and after amens, “The cardiologist said

I have only one vein and one artery working

on my heart. I have six months.”


Groans. Sighs. He smiled and wobbled

out the room. We rose—hushed—and filed                                               

to the choir loft. He sat in his pew watching.


Where, at his final moment? Driving (God forbid!)—

home alone cooking—shaving—sweeping—reading—

resting? When the last attack comes, Dear Jesus:


grab his spirit’s hand and pull him free; let

his distant ragged body convulse reflexively—

heart stopping, last breath exhaling—


as instantly his soul is with You in paradise.

The writer has written sacred and secular verse for decades. He has been published in Prairie Messenger, Windhover, The Anglican Theological Review, Ancient Paths, The Christian Communicator, Time of Singing, The Christian Century, and others. He is a member of the Winston Salem Writers. He serves a life sentence, condemned to write verse. His Jesus Through A Poet’s Lens is now available via Kindle.