Love and Possibilities
He sat alone in his hospital bed,
Numb from his eyeballs to fingers to toes,
And wondered again why he wasn't dead,
And why he must suffer repeated throes.
He knew guilt -- from asking himself these things;
He should be grateful that he survived.
Yet aware of costs that survival brings,
His life leaves his small family deprived.
The doctors said: "Don't think about the price.
Don't worry about it. Just rest -- and heal."
And he tried hard to follow their advice,
But the flood of bills was both quick and real.
He watched retirement funds disappear.
He felt their small savings dwindle and fade.
His vague trepidations became true fear;
He questioned all of the choices he'd made.
For what is the value of just one life,
If extending it causes so much pain?
If his valiant battles create such strife,
Must he weigh the cost of his hard fought gain?
As he found himself wanting on that scale,
Considered ending the cost of his care;
He saw a small fire burning green and pale,
And a raggedy fellow standing there.
From the ageless face came a soothing voice,
Singing words warm and soft and hard as stone.
The words said that no man should make the choice,
To discard a gift given him alone.
Life is more precious than silver and gold;
Not to be measured by man's graft and greed,
Not to be stolen, nor traded, nor sold,
Though it may be given at greatest need.
He could not know what his presence may mean,
To the people he loves in days to come;
He might be the beacon through storms unseen,
To guide a lost loved one safely back home.
The Minstrel sang of possibilities,
Of chances only life can generate:
Visions of futures that one only sees,
If viewed with eyes powered by love, not hate.
Later that night, as he drifted toward dreams,
He felt the Minstrel's soft, feathery touch;
And understood life's not bad as it seems,
And the scary bills -- maybe not so much...
He saw life is not about owning things,
About balancing books and policies,
Not about money, cabbages, or kings;
Life's about love and possibilities.
Desperation is often the stepchild of fear and misunderstanding.