The cancer within
He
Travelled far for his work
Slogging from six to ten
Persistent Cough
He never smoked
He never drank
One son
In his twenties
Works and drinks
His wages gone
His wife
She a maid
Or was
Lost her jobs
Too many breaks
For visits
To
The hospital
No money
No help
The government hospital
A hole in his throat
A pipe to feed
The pain
Uncontrollable
Tears he sheds
Cannot speak
Hands outstretched
Begging for relief
His body eaten up
No morphine for his pain
The hospitals won’t take him
He’s a hopeless case
My maid she shares
A generous soul
With her next door neighbour
From her meagre wages
She feels
And his tears
She hears his voice
He cannot talk
My little boy
His stack of coins
To her he gives
Why don’t I?
Am I afraid
Of the rehab?
He takes the coins
Buys his release
It dosent kill
He lingers on
His pain increases
Begs for death
Every day
His wife suffering
In silence
At last he is in
That wonderful place
Where the sisters
Take his pain
Morphine they give
They say their prayers
For healing
Of the spirit
Then he gives up
His soul
Free at last
She calls up
My maid
I’m away
I need to see him
I’ll cook and go
But someone asks her
Why you?
Isn’t there any other?
I’m ashamed
Am I the other?
I didn’t do
So much I could
In secret
No one
Would have known
I was afraid
Of the rehab
Of being
A misfit
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