They were happy
For the first time in their lives
A window of joy
An instance of hope
She was so beautiful
A baby girl
But happiness is a kind of sorrow in itself
Nothing in life is free
The mother was bleeding
Her life slowly ebbing away,
slipping through her fingers
she paid for her daughter’s life
with her own
they could have saved her
she could have raised her child
but there was no blood
He had lived this far
only by a miracle
all those years of chemotherapy
slowly decaying his body
his spirit, willing
his flesh, so weak
since birth
his own body killing itself
leaukimia had taken its toll
they said he had lived too long
that he was a fighter
eight years old
but he needed the transfusion
to live eight more
he could have lived longer
he could have had
his first date
his first dance
his first kiss
he could have walked down the aisle
with the love of his life
he could have known life, love and happiness
before he knew death
he could have known the joy of bringing up his children
of watching his grand children grow
but now he can’t
he sits in a hospital bed , surrounded by those who love him
awaiting his fate
for there was no blood
an unborn baby
getting ready to enter this world
this beautiful world
not knowing how much
sorrow his coming brings
his mother sheds tears
though not of joy
it was either him or her
a mother forced to decide
the life of her child
or that of herself
but there was a slim chance
he could survive
they had to operate
she agreed.
The operation
A success
The baby was saved
....well almost saved
they tried every corner
looking, searching
hospitals, dispensaries
they even appealed to schools
but they got the same answer
his whole life ahead of him
now lay behind him
he was six months old
prematurely born
pre maturely dying
he could have lived
but there was no blood
They were to wed in two weeks
Exchange vows
Walk down the aisle
Sound familiar
But war came up
He went to fight for his country
To keep her safe
She remained
Praying each day for his return
Then they brought back his body
Mortar fire, shrapnel
had shredded his flesh beyond hope
They had to amputate his leg
He bled to death
They could have saved him
She walks down the aisle
But as a widow not a bride
A dirge instead of the wedding march
Haunts her steps
She carries lilies instead of roses
Black-clad instead of white.
The brightes of days turned to
a night as dark as midnight’s face
the vows she would have said
had been fulfiled
till death did them part.
He could have been by her side
Kissing her
Watching as she threw the bouqet
Watching as their first child learned to walk, ride a bicycle
As their first child got married
They could have sp[ent the rest of their lives
Together as they ought to have been
But there was no blood
We preach water and drink wine
we excpect to be saved
when we refuse to save others
we take on the role of executioner
executioner of the innocent
i’m afraid, it will hurt, i don’t have enough
i can’t do it, i’m too old
We **** the innocent with our decision
We **** our future, our hope, our dreams
We **** those we love
You say none of these apply to you
Then Let me dash your dream world
Your fantasy, your bubble that you call life
Let me dash them on the jagged teeth of reality
Your brother lies dying in an ambulance
A knife sticking out of his heart
He has been mugged
Your father lies, dying, after a heart bypass operation
His only chance of life becoming one of the many for death.
Your mother lies sick in a hospital bed
Anaemic and slowly slipping away
Age caught up with her
Your sister lies in a clinic
An accident cut a major blood vessel
She is losing her life
You could have saved them all
But you didn’t
Maybe you still can
Or maybe its too late
Did i forget to mention
You lie in the bed next to your mother
Wishing, hoping, praying for life
Weak from a car crash
You have lost the very blood you refused to give
The very blood you wish could save the lives of your loved ones
The doctor walks in
Clip board in hand.
What do you think he will say.
What will your ending be.
You may
Choose your destiny
Or choose your death
But remember,
Greater love hath no man
Than to lay down his life for a friend
How much more if it were a stranger.
A kitchy poem i wrote to psych up students for an upcoming blood drive at a former uni i attended 10 years ago. interesting how styles change