I felt a hot sharp pain, my breath left my body, darkness prevailed,
I spiraled, then there was an aching nothing, every sense had failed.
I flew like an empty sack, skywards, all my plans, my future, gone
Was this a prelude to death, no wailing, just flailing, living done?
This cannot be all, where is the bright light, the heavenly chorus
the panacea fed to us to make our going joyous,
relief when we’ve ascended, not this, abandoned, ended,
Wait, I hear a caring voice, within the void, transcended.
Kate MacDonald is a retired septuagenarian who started to write just over sixteen months ago. She has many hobbies, but writing helps to fill an insomniac's dark quiet hours. She has had seventeen poems and six short stories published, online and in print: Chris Fielden's “Nonsensically Challenged,” for charity. High Shelf Press volume XXIII. WinglessDreamer. Spillwords Press. 805 Lit and Art. Funny Pearls. Little Old Lady Comedy. Dillydoun Review. The World of Myth Magazine.