This is why I walk in circles in June from sunrise to sunrise–and beyond. It is why I hiked the 26.2 miles of the Marathon Walk. It is why this site exists. This is for all of you who have walked someone to the end of cancer’s road. Those of you with cancer might want to skip this one.

Here is Death

Here is death–

Not sharp and sudden—

No bullets, knives,

No stroke or heart attack–

Not quick and clean—

The messy death

Of soiled sheets

And pumps and wires

And frustration—

The loss of every dignity—

The loss of every privacy—

The loss of every human thing.

 

Here is death

Built slowly day-by day—

The swollen feet, the lump,

The shortness of the breath—

The appetite that fades–

The world that shrinks

From town to home,

To a floor,

A pair of rooms,

A bed and chair.

The pain that grows

In mind and body both

 

Here is death–

Beggaring the body,

Beggaring the mind,

Beggaring the soul,

Consuming flesh,

Consuming sanity,

Consuming humanity,

Sucking the marrow

Of all that is joy.

 

Here is death–

I read to you,

I kiss your forehead,

Nose and lips—

The doctor comes

And listens, shakes his head–

I close your eyes–

I carry your coffin

And weep the silence

That remains.

copyright 2012 by Harry Proudfoot