Standing On the Line
standing on the line
thoughts turn to death,
crossing over, passing on
what ever term we humans use
to make the inevitable less frightening
it is the last big event and we avoid the reality.
try and talk about dying with anyone
you are shunned, ignored or worse still
diagnosed as deeply depressed
their eyes roll innocently to your wrists
voice changes to distanced conciliatory tone.
platitudes well rehearsed fumble across
the chilling space in dark profusion
their fingers creep, supposedly unnoticed,
toward the prescription pad
quick, plan your escape silence is golden
scared the stuffing out of the poor beggar
i know i am afraid, mostly of the pain
or stumbling around in a confusion,
cut off from life,
by the very treatment for pain
there will be loss of self, then,
a discovery of something so profound,
answers to all of my questions.
Copyright © Patricia Cresswell | Year Posted 2017
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