The Drunken Soldier
The drunken soldier broke down the wrong door Inside was a circle of saints lifted off the ground To the sound of gunfire a…
If illness by Allah is science fact
then its cure is
science fiction by a mad
scientist we hope’s on the right track
his beakers abubble his machinery abuzz
the light in the air growing youthful
peach fuzz
a pasture of health in the distance
waiting for us
to arrive in one piece and
run on its grass
into the open space
of His Merciful Face
5/28/12 (from Down at the Deep End)
Categories: Poems, Cancer Treatment