Alone, , she was, ,
sick, , in pain, , isolated
with every intake of breath
she had to force the air through her throat
her lungs felt the increasing deprivation
only sleep could calm her tears
unconsciousness smuffing her pain
help, , she was told, ,
was a while wait
locked in, falling behind
she tried to reach out to others
technological communication
, , her only relief, ,
exhaustion has become her
one more day
a long trip
needle and within
to make it end
a sharp pain
twisted stomach
the lightning bugs once above her
now stare her in the face
an invisible inferno torches her body
and its gone
purple and blue
, , all that remains, ,
and catching up...
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
Yes, I see you, and that too. Inflammatory. The disease of our time. The pain of our condition. We all need better ways to achieve and maintain health. Clean land, water, and air, righteous seed, and cooperative communities for starters. Peace.