The Intervention
the man lay dying &
like many men before
he was suddenly surrounded by an
intervening troupe
whose mission it was to make him
like them
“before it was too late”---
now,
whether or not “too late,”
is a measurable amount of time,
outside the obvious notion that
one’s death is one’s death,
all she wrote, etc. etc.,
understand that there are those
that believe there is a life beyond &
that there is a boogeyman in the sky
watching over us all &
torturing us all,
in that dual love/hate psychosis
which the
interveners aspire to.
to “protect himself from himself,”
to “save him,”
the interveners claim that they are
coming between him & the force
that he hasn’t submitted to---
“if you just make your peace with him,
all will be well,” they suggest
like a mafia don wanting a service
in the future,
capitalizing on the desperation that comes
from a person in dire straits
whose life has already been compromised
by an illness.
thrusting the cowardly & dishonest wager
of pascal, the delusion of “eternal happiness
in the hereafter,” and the possibility of
all the wrongdoings of a life somehow
being “forgiven”
(as if all those living,
breathing, humans involved, were to
forgive him as well, by default, for all
the wrong that he has done to them)
in his face,
these savage idiots put all their energy
into making one more notch in their
belt, one more “conversion” prior to a
person’s death, one more action which
they feel no regrets or misgivings
about---because “they did the right
thing”---
they “saved his soul.”
and they do so with an authority
gained from nothing,
a hubris that stems from nowhere &
the audacity
of a fascist dictator forcing that first
will into complete submission.
Copyright ©
Andrew Delapruch
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