Poetry of loss contributed by Nate Reid.
“The Medically Induced Coma”
A man stood beside a warm hospital bed
Watching his son die, one piece at a time.
“He still might survive,” the kind doctor said.
“There’s one more solution we haven’t tried.
But the plan is quite dangerous, your boy’s in much pain,
When he goes to sleep now you might not see him again.
So stand by his side, let him see your face,
Say something soothing as his rhythm is slowing.”
And the man told the doctor,
“What on Earth do I say?
Do I tell him Goodbye or it will be Okay?
Do I tell him these things happen while the gods are away?
This is not right, Doc, this is not supposed to be!
Children are meant to stay, parents are meant to leave!
This should be me, Doc, this should be me!”
And the kind doctor said,
“In a perfect world.”
The son then stirred, he spoke through feeble lips:
“Father, don’t bother with the black pits of sorrow,
Don’t busy your heart with perfect scripts,
Don’t dwell on before or if I’ll be here tomorrow.
Just say I Love You, and let the words thrive.
Whether you’ve been here awhile or you’ve only just arrived,
I Love You is its own place.
Doesn’t matter if you’re coming or going.”