A broken soul, in broken vessel, lies-
Atop uneven alley's rocks.
Breathing is so shallow, and, mercifully, frostbite--
Has removed his awful pain, while--
Darkness hides rot from sight.
At the hour, now, a rattle. At the door, Death knocks.
Unseen, Thanatos enters, stepping o'er rocks.
Instead of hood and sickle, or stinging, sulphur-stink,
A hand, a coat, a touch...rescues from deaths' brink!
Oh, Canada! A native son, and surely a saint!
Has risen amongst ranks--removing deadly planks!
He, who seeks no glory, sends a message true:
"Do unto each of those--you wish them do, to you!"
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