
The Path
You start early you’re nobody’s fool You set out on foot no snow will stop you Shapes in the mist statues of warriors Arms…
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