My Worst Fear
laying supine in the miasma of my own abominable waste
my exposed spoor and stench,now, others can taste
sweat, grime and shame encrust my mottled skin
food and drink love to lurk in the wrinkly folds under my chin
my hands tremble,like shaken by an earthquake
can't even hold a brush to comb my hair straight
unable to move, a prisoner, chained to my own bed in hell
I try to draw motile attention by ringing a clamorous bell
sleep evades me; I lay awake and thirsty all night
waiting for a sip of water sometimes until daylight
some evenings, I pine to see the vermilion sunset
hope someone is free to push the wheelchair on my request
my flesh has dissolved but there is weight in my bone
they never say but I must feel like a sac of stone
my family, they love me I know but they are busy
nurturing a grown up child for long can never be easy
I won’t complain but if life comes to this day
Lord, my God—please gently lift me away
Written on 06/24/2016
Copyright © Sara Chansarkar | Year Posted 2016
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