The drowning death for the poet Strider who I am grateful to and for

 Dear Lord, we the cockroaches
We the servants
Scurrying through the wet,
Through the cracks of life
We are drowning
Cats chase our every move
Earthquakes quake our every breath
We are truly suffocating
The drowning death

Dear Lord, what happens when that flood
That flood water recedes,  
Do we cling
Afloat
Storm
Down across the valley behind
Past the big tree
Torn off by debris
In a day

Dear Lord