Song of the Spirit

SONG OF THE SPIRIT Ridden on a bed Barely able to moan Can't move a finger Or let out a groan I sense some footsteps Inching towards me Must be the doc bless him To relieve my agony Lying on my sore back For almost an eternity Each muscle stiff Crying for relief Debilitated devastated Wrapped up in grief Yet, this spirit Deep inside me Just a speck A tiny fleck Wilful stubborn Refuses to succumb Irrepressible incandescent Yearns for a joyous outcome Listen carefully Hear it cry 'Fear not adversity Never say die' Resubmitted for Julie Rodeheavers Contest: I am a survivor Date Aug 22 2017 This poem attempts to explore the spirit of the terminally ill patients many of them lying in a vegetative state and for whom passive euthanasia is advocated by a sizeable section of society as the only remedy.