I have to say
The prognosis is grim
The pulse is erratic
Breath has become labored, thready
The circular in and out replaced by panicked gasps.
Constricted windpipes wheeze long, hopeless sighs
Nope, it doesn’t look good.
It’s going to be a slow death
Humiliation and Outrage, twin, piercing icebergs
Slow melting glaciers,
Until we are all awash in a flood of self-pity
Each wishing, hoping
I am Noah!
We haven’t been that good
And we won’t be that lucky.
Of course, we will still rally.
When our blood pressure rises
We will brace ourselves to fight, be vigilant
Outsmart the insidious cancerous squid ink squirt
Leaking, surreptitiously at first, from a tear
A rotted carotid
Pumping, hemorrhaging boldly, aggressively, vigorously.
We had always known it was in our veins
But thought we’d outlive it
We might not
Without fail, we grow weary
Weak with worry
Our will sandpapered
Even the mighty heart is compromised
And something’s not right in the head
Still, there are so many plans to make
Upturned faces to wipe clean
Documents to be put in order
There are always taxes to pay
It would be easier
Better for us all
To just relax, let go
But, no, no, we all know what that means!
Do not go gently! No,
No rest for the wicked or the righteous,
Put on a brave face
Keep calm, Keep on trucking
Keep the faith
Fight the good fight
Do it for the children
For the good of us all
Hold on, be strong…
It’s all we can do, right?
It’s looking pretty bleak from here….
copyright 2016 Adina Richman, all rights reserved
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