Tuesday, September 25, 2012

Her birthday


Her birthday today
and her, long gone
sacrificed to the needle;
the long nod
before the big sleep.

A junkie of middle years
habit borne of
poor medical practice;
                bad practice
                malpractice,
                impatience,
with a patient left
to wander alone
in urban
Munchhausian forest
where wood dominates trees
to obscure vision behind
judgement from
the wellness of others.

Her voice silent now
I sing alone
                Happy Birthday to you
                Happy Birthday to you
                Happy Birthday Dear Gina
                Happy Birthday to you
and her laughter echoes
across my memory.

~ Merlene Fawdry

3 comments:

  1. I like this poem very much, it reminds me of a Neil Young song.

    Well done

    ReplyDelete
  2. Would that be The Needle and the Damage Done, AgList? I love that, too.

    But this is beautiful in a different way ... the pain of the birthday when the soul has been lost ... touches me in ways that I can't bear thinking about.

    Thank you, Merlene.

    ReplyDelete

For some reason I'm yet to fathom I'm unable to reply to comments left by others so thank you for dropping by and taking the time to read and comment. Merlene