On the days I sit among them
Tubes dripping poison through our veins,
I make communion with these faces
As my potent cocktail slowly drains.
...
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This poem is so truthful and conveys such sympathy it enhances my sense of belonging to a family of other human beings, and we are tied together by our interests, our loves, our common fate, our compassion for each other, our experiences of health and sickness. But tied together we are, your poem makes this so persuasively the essence of our humanity. I am the suffering woman who speaks this poem, just as she is me in my relative good health. And what makes this exchange possible is your sensitive, unflinching, unsentimental but suffused with genuine sentiment. This poem is a treasure of human warmth.
We always have a choice in most things. Except in a hospital, you put it wholly in the hands of the doctor and the Lord above. It's all too much to bear. I put my hands to my head in grief and they come away with hair. These lines are scary, yet true. and it is truly unbearable.... nicely written.
I've deeply appreciated your well penned poem, dear Gina, first as a reader, then also as a doctor. Such realities have to be shown.. and you did it through strong, hunting images filled with deep feelings. Thank you and.. WELCOME AT POEM HUNTER! greetings from Italy
I sent an email to you, but no feedback.. check at Amazon for the book '' WHISPERS TO THE WORLD '', with your poem.. (and others) starting tomorrow - Sept.1 - it will be free for downloading (the promotion of our book will last 5 days)