01/19/2016 by syrbal-labrys
…and carry on at the leading edge of panic,
We are more about in cavalry than Calvary,
Good then to be so named on our arrival?
The man in the bed does not move,
Norepinephrine keeps his heart a-beat,
A ventilator moves his chest – one, two, three…
But he cannot wake nor come home.
The wife’s priorities are right:
Let go and hold the children tight!
So we’ve ridden to the rescue,
But Death carries the day and we retreat,
Four days to make a new perimeter of Life?
With no “miracles”, no “husband”, no “daddy”.
Save tempera-paint handprints on canvas.
Put then away Christmas,
Clear clutter and decks,
Find financial margins of survival,
Stock cupboards and dry tears,
Black suits shaken from suitcases,
To dress the outside of inner turmoil,
And focus relentless forward motion,
Because while the dead are still,
The living must be quick indeed!
I’m here to oil the gears and fire the engines.