English poetry

Poems in English

It is an abhorrent thing

It is an abhorrent thing, this incarceration of your vulnerability,
Profoundly cruel in the way you were beaten
To your knees, blithely unaware it was a battle lost
For your health and wellbeing. It was dreadful to witness
Your vigour evaporate, sapped by a merciless agent
Of discontinuity, sold into the slavery of a sickness
That debilitates your will from within.

I am shocked, too, at my smallness in the face of it,
Cowed by the enormity beyond, which threatens
The core of our being as one. And seeing you pale
And traumatised in a hospital bed, whispering
In a tiny, distant voice, the fire in your eyes a flicker
Where it blazed before,
I am unashamedly terrified.

And yet you inspire me with your selflessness;
Though sorely ill you strive to ease my ragged sense
Of right and wrong which leaves me devastated.
But I can think clearly, it is me who should be
Abed in the hospital ward instead of you. It is I
Who should shield you from the pain and uncertainty.
Truly, I should be suffering there instead of you.

As it is I fear the melancholy of this empty house
Which echoes with the effervescent lives we lived
Before this cursed disease arrived to blight
Our fragile happiness. As it is I fear the worst
In every living moment, hoping for reprieve,
Fearing for my hope, and caring for you such
My aching heart should burst.

Peachester May, 2005

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Poem It is an abhorrent thing - Ivan Donn Carswell