Silent as rain drops sliding down glass
fibrosis and inflammation are stealing his breath.
It’s not like he could put locks on his lungs to keep
them from burning and scarring all they touched.
They’ve been scanned and shot at with steroids,
alarms went off with shortness of breath;
no way to haul their butts to jail, they haven’t
committed any infraction of law to issue a warrant.
I sit here drinking a beer, and writing a poem,
he lays there sucking life from a hose.
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12 comments:
oohhh... powerful! a definite WOW!
ohhh this is... harsh, powerful and sad Pat.... because I sat there once myself.... listening, wondering.... and at loss...
Thank you...
we never know how we'll go...
Wow is right - this certainly gets to the point - and why not, it is what it is. Excellent Pat.
so sad pat
i remember that helpless feeling all too well
the last 2 lines hit really hard. this is a powerful delivery.
God hears poems too!
hey there !
take care
This is so very sad Pat. Having been through something very similar, then losing my loved one, I feel this where it hurts. But I love Don Iannone's comment. And I'm sure it's true!
That's quite a first line, Pat.
Powerfully humble--"Remember that you are dust and to dust you shall return"
been there.
.
relate.
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