Mercy When you face the doctor And see, behind him, months Or years of tests and charts, Being slid in and out of tubes And sliced and sectioned, Sent away in pieces, and still The slow decline, inescapable Fencing against Death Who dances around you, striking First this part, and then that, Touché, your wife will drive you Or, perhaps, you will go nowhere Further than the railing of the front porch, Touché, the contractors will come And install the metal bars, horizontal, That lead you through the house Like a scared animal, clinging to walls. Then, think of the zebra. Not the proud horsy beast That thunders in herds across the Serengeti, But that one, behind, Who feels his heart twitching in his chest And has no time to think Of stents or balloons, only time To feel the sharp bite Of teeth into flesh, stumbling Wild-eyed, rolling with the lion, And one last kick, connecting With the air, before the snap And sudden disentanglement Of beast and beast. Do you see it? That is nature’s mercy, The zebra’s white unseeing eyes Turned towards God.
My notes: A poem I wrote in college. It’s still one I’m very fond of… this is a complicated topic, I think. Death and how we deal with it… and how our intelligence and advances have let us deal with it without, at the very end of things, a different outcome. And believe me, I am not one who believes that we will figure out eternal life, nor does that fact make me all that sad, as much as I miss those who have gone before.
