When is the right time to die. A poem by Andrew Houlihan

I’m sitting here alone in my room,
birds chirping amongst the spring sun.
The trees are coming into blossom

It’s ten past one and the news is on.
The world is going crazy, more of my
comrades have passed.

I pick up my worn down bible,
hold it close to my chest
I’m not afraid to die, this is God’s work.

James, Andrew please don’t fight.
Your mother and I, we worked so hard
for you both.

Make love not war, I beg of you.
Now is the right time to die.


I wrote this poem on the way to the church for my da’s funeral he passed away in a nursing home in Dublin from covid 19. As we all know of the scandal surrounding the nursing homes. I wrote this poem as if it’s my da talking. Unfortunately, at this time, myself and my brother are not talking.

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