CHANT DU CYGNE
The bed is hard, the sheets are stiff, I’m faced with shades of gray
I dread this garb, through sleep I drift, to waste away the day.
I wait for just the moment, hope their making up my hearse
Don’t know about atonement, I’m just waiting for the nurse.
She comes and brings a tray of food, and with a change of gown,
She comes and tries to sway my mood, but none can change my frown.
My will is numb, affliction grew, the days I feel alone,
Until they come, my sisters do, and make me feel at home.
I wish they knew, to what extent, their presence meant to me.
My two best friends, through hell we went, their lessons- meant to be.
We were not meant, supposed to fight, or share each others’ boy.
Our lives were spent so close and tight, we shared each others’ joy.
The doctor gave me options, but I fear there is no choice…
I wish they would just get here, wait!, I think I hear her voice.
My ‘little sis’, the younger one, she’s just a tad afraid.
Had monsters in her closet, I had left her dragons slayed.
But now her fears lie in my bed. The room, she enters slow.
Wipes down a tear that she just shed, her gloom begins to grow.
I’m gripped with fright, can’t let her know, the agony I’m in.
Too sick to fight, can’t let it show, my dragon, it’ll win…
Behind her is my older sis, the mother of us all.
Refined, she is the mold of mother, covering our flaw.
Since mother’s death, she filled the void, the one we’d ask advice.
Her love has left us filled with joy, she made the sacrifice.
They’ve joined me for my epilogue, my story has it’s end.
They think that I’ll stand next to god; his glory? That’s pretend!
Six feet in depth, in dirt I’ll lie, my casket is my tomb.
“Defeating death!”, it hurts to lie, a bastard since the womb.
My sister sobs, I take her hand, remind her of the day,
“Recall the time, the doctor came, you tried to run away?
Ma asked if I’d go first, so I would show you it’s okay.
Again I will go first, in death, and show you both the way..”
They look at me, my strength- it wanes, the tears- I cannot fight
It took of me, immense in pain, severe, I’m now contrite.
Life’s a ball? I had some fun, not mad I’ll miss the game.
Our love is all, my life is done, just glad my sisters came…
(c) Ryan Baker 2010.
One Comment
Such a powerful and beautiful poem.