A Poet with nothing
  left to say

On bended knees
  gets down to pray

Belief on hold,
  his memory churns

Sleep comes hard
  dreams toss and turn

A new starvation
  fatal thirst

This deprivation
  unrehearsed

Last ounce of blood,
  the page is stained

No letters form,
  no thoughts remain

A Poet left
  without his voice

Dark road to travel
  single choice

The sun has set
  and not to rise

His final word
—a last goodbye

(Villanova Pennsylvania: February, 2018)