My Child

You lie on the cold gurney

Winnie the Pooh blanket
A token to comfort you
Half in and half out
Undecided which way to go
Your blue eyes unfocused
Sight turned inward
You fight the battle
That should never
Have been yours
The soothing sound
Of nurses voices
Try to distract you
From your pain
As they prepare
Yet another treatment
Somehow you know
A still small voice
Has whispered
Its time
Come home my child
At last free
You look back
One final time
As they rush
To your side
Your small frame
Lies limp
As you turn
Towards the light
You are free
From the pain
Peace has come

Joseph Men
December 27, 2001

Some details about this poem

© 2001, Joseph Men