Deathwards Go I

Deathwards go I—
Through this needle’s narrowing eye
Called Life, —
With mortal Thread stitched—.

If garment be weaved—
From Life by the Weaver’s loom;
Then weaved was
I by Him— ‘til worn and creased
Out of shape into Death’s cold womb—.

–Ngoc Nguyen

https://www.poetrysoup.com/me/poembender

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