Psonnets of Friendship
Dead Man's Calling

A street is stretched into a distant sky,
but never have I crossed that horizon
to find what lies beyond a setting sun,
yet friend and family, forgotten, die,
and I am left alone here, none but I,
one single bullet chambered in my gun
to take my life, my loving mother's son,
and no one knows nor cares my reason why.
But when I hold the pistol to my head,
I hear a call to walk the narrow street
beyond the vanishing of asphalt tread
into a neighborhood where all will greet
me lovingly till I love whence I fled
and go again there with a gospel sweet.
~ by Michael Rew / Email: witness@psonnets.org