By Parson Thru
So the putrid, sick body dies beneath us
– we who haven’t already died living –
and the industry moves in to keep us out of sight.
Takes us into wards and hides our night-time agonies.
Visits our homes carrying bundles of unmentionable absorbent pads
and latex gloves.
Leaves without a word,
dropping our waste into a convenient bin.
One tenth of the world is in sickness
– the rest are in denial.
Nobody minds the dead
– they don’t get in the way
– can’t contaminate with what life has in store.
“Live for today!”
Enjoy life now, if you have the time and the energy.
Soon you’ll be sick and invisible even to yourself
– checked-in for the grave –
in that no-place, post-diagnosis.
But the clarion-call is lost on the living.
And the dead are no longer listening.
The call comes from the dying
– too late.
No one can hear.