A Cage To Hold My Dreams
Hell-Life
'How are you', I would ask
'Not too bad', came her constant reply,
an obvious lie, but said with
real conviction, hoping I might
be fooled for just a couple of
more weeks by her optimism
and unfailing good humour.
But I saw what was going on.
I knew that the treatment
had not worked
How bravely she had taken
everything they dished out,
the probing, the pain,
the humiliation
The scalpel in her stomach
the needle in her veins
the plastic tube up her nose
the indescribable fire raging
through her body....what
was all this for ? At best,
a few extra months of hell-life.
When did it begin to spread ?
When did her healthy flesh
start going rotten, turned
piece by piece into stinking death ?
If we had seen it happen
maybe we could have done
something.
But its too late now.
And I am helpless, too,
a victim of these events,
not wanting to look at what
is happening to her but unable
to turn away in case I miss
one tiny, precious moment
of her life.
