What a strange and terrible thing
that brings terror to a person,
where you cannot breathe,
while such an odd feel and nausea do remain,
the left side right through the chest and heart does pain,
when that pain does not disappear in the chest, back and arm
in a moment my whole life turns around before me
and when the world goes back to its normal way
I am afraid that I will loose you so suddenly,
where in me only remains a hell of powerlessness,
where I know that I am not finished with my poems,
where I am searching for more intense light as darkness is coming
and I am strong, fit, have got low cholesterol
of the thing that is life I am full
but by mere blood pressure this thing hits me
with which everything just like this can come to an end,
where I wonder about everything, about which life is,
over the days of my own existence,
where you and the things of my life do become lovelier
and in joy I know that God does pour out his mercy over me.
© Gert Strydom
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem