The Dying Patient's Complaint
How can life be possible
in such a mess of human wretchedness and wreckage
of brain surgery and tumour, stroke and cancer,
all at once, and yet they all demand of me to carry on,
return to life in a decrepit ruined body
which impossibly can be restored;
complete recovery is beyond reach;
demanding the impossible is an absurdity,
like this preposterous whole situation;
still, they all do mean a lot to me,
and I am not completely willing to depart
and leave them all behind;
so I am vacillating between life and death.
If they all want me to remain,
my relatives and friends in such a number,
I of course will humour them and stay with them,
but it depends on them entirely;
if they are not sufficient in their love and prayers,
I have not enough of patience to remain in this invalid body
but will have to leave it for a better one,
no matter how much they may love me,
my poor children, relatives and friends,
who after all, no doubt, will understand me if I leave them..
Poetry by Christian Lanciai
Read 382 times
Written on 2006-12-26 at 11:30
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