do not go silent
into that good night
sing, sing into the dying of the light1
.
.
.
waning hours
naked
amidst the stars
.
.
.
murmuring voices
gentle rhythms, beeps
ICU recovery2
.
.
.
nursing home pilot
labored breathing
graveyard spiral3
.
.
.
chattering stardust
oblivious to
oblivion
.
.
.
pressing daily concerns
mundane flotsam
mind desperately clings
.
.
.
dwindling candle
light flickers
shadows
.
.
.
better mourned
than burden
lifted
.
.
.
pathetic gestures
of importance
infinite darkness
.
.
.
going under
fist above water
clutching vitae
.
.
.
hardest challenge last
surrender
everything
.
.
encroaching darkness
noted with
fading lamp
.
.
.
- This is a riff on Dylan Thomas’:
Do not go gentle into that good night
Rage rage against the dying of the light - My experience waking up post-surgery in ICU.
- In memory of my dear friend, Bill Conroy, in reference to his death in a nursing home. He was a pilot in the Korean war and talked often of how pilots can get themselves into a “graveyard spiral” that causes them to crash. His last hours were labored-breathing-into-death.
Powerful words and images. Thank you for a reminder of existential truths.
Thank you, Gary.
Voice given to the often unspoken. Haiku, I find, suspends you on a moment. Thanks Brian.
Thank you, Linda.
“Oblivious to oblivion”….c’est moi. Very dark musings…but true. Thanks for sharing.
c’est moi, aussi.