Cancer Ward One Poem by Bernard Kennedy

' I think we got it all, maybe, hopefully'.
Was I once twenty one, and did I climb
the mountain top or was it just a hill?
Was that valley really deep
or was it just a hollow. Did I play,
a game of football,
on the beach at Cumeenole,
and fall in love, and break my heart,
or was it just transference.

And in the end, no gilts or bars of gold,
no ruminating on the stock exchange,
nor ftse, nasdaq, nor cuffs with silver links,
no membership of the club or golf links,
nor networking a mile off Sunset Boulevard,
or pious appeal for intercession spent,
can change the medical assent.

The philosophers' truth remains the point,
but not on headlines of the press,
for truth it cannot sell-
but still it rings aloud-
Beauty, Truth and Goodness
save the day. An echo of desire
whose delight of Soul,
anticipates. All else?
well does it really matter?
For I shall sleep alone again,
and all await the bell.