From Hospital Hill, the city lay dumb,
Dawn impregnated, wreathed in mist.
“Choose Life! ”its copper-clad acropolis
Constrained, “Your hour is not yet come.”
“Choose Peace! ” smirked Death, conning me with adamantine claw
To play a hand of dice,
“Winner takes all! ”
I covered my face.
An hour before our banshee wail had scattered sleep;
Split absent-minded traffic to the bone. “Five four
Over three zero. ” Intoned the paramedic, nonchalant,
By radio. My blood pressure could it be?
What affirmation then, what hope, what guarantee
I’d raise my boys to sing
Their own song; or see
Their rough-hewn blossoming.
Six days and nights I fought Despair, grim undertaker
Of mankind. “Nurse, I’m dying” low, into the dark.
“Not so! ” she fiercely answered back,
“God’s love is with you always. See!
The charts confirm His covenant.” Breath by tortured breath
Nearby lay Pastor John
A heartbeat from death
Riding the same, satanical storm.
Too weak for words; a wave, we smiled goodbye,
Myself to new hope, a better place I shared
With sun and sky. He died; my life was spared
By God’s gracious hand. Why mine?
A flower fades, a sparrow falls; “Code Blue! Code Blue! ”
‘Send not to know
For whom the bell tolls.
It tolls for you.’
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
A wonderfully powerful poem. '...our banshee wail had scattered sleep; '. Excellent. The terrible fear that death may take you before you are ready, '...what guarantee I'd raise my boys to sing their own song, or see their rough-hewn blossoming.' The fierce nurse, all practicality and red-scrubbed tenderness. Pastor John and yourself, perhaps both going to the right place at the right time? Enjoyed this very much x