When a terminally ill patient should die
No one’s fooled when the plug is pulled
It’s tragic and cold
Whether young or old
Proclamations of that “better place”
The tears on a mother’s face
Homes left with an empty space
Despite the futility
And little chance of recovery
Hope shines from the moments of stability
No longer there
Just a lengthy “wait and see”
From the left and right
Day and night
Let them pass, or watch them fight
In and out of consciousness
Medical charts have no heart
No soul, no art
A personalized diary called “end of days”
Applications and expectations
Reservations and variations
Circling back to a permanent vacation
And that uncomfortable realization
That every crossing has been crossed
Tried them all, ignored the cost
Yet the moment still is lost
Is it time?
Is it a crime?
When a terminally ill patient should die?
Is it you?