Got Himself Killed 1940 Poem by Terry Collett

My total
independence
has gone.

I can't see
where I 'm going,
my blind eyes
fail me.

I can't walk anywhere
as my leg stumps
prevent that.

I can't even do
the usual things
I used to do:
like urinate
or other.

Just dependant
on the nurses
to come
and deal with me,
and the things
that need doing.

I lie
in the bed
waiting,
listening to voices,
hearing bedpans
being taken by,
wheelchairs
needing oiling
being pushed past
the foot
of my bed.

I habitually go
to scratch a foot
that's not there
because it itches.

I go to get up
to go somewhere,
and I realise
I have no legs
to get there.

I call out
and wait
and a nurse
comes and says,
what is it Grace?

I want to get up
and dressed
and go out
in the sunshine
not be stuck
here all day.
I say.

We will be
with you
in a minute,
we had a rush on
last night
the German's bombed
the docks
and quite a few
were injured
and were brought here.

She goes
and I am left
here in the dark.

I think of Clive
that night
he brought
me home
from the dance,
and I asked him
to stay the night.

It was the day
before he was due
to join the army,
and I said,
it could be
our last time
for ages,
so he stayed,
and we went to bed
and made love
as never before,
and it was
the last time.

And that moment
after he left,
I felt so alive
so fulfilled.

Then went
and got
himself killed.