Dying – © 1983

A poem about getting the news you are going to die, soon.

To me, the date says it all. I grew up KNOWING that I was going to die young, before I was 30. No, I didn’t have some disease or defect. I just knew. In 1983 I turned 30. This poem just converted what I knew, into an actual diagnosis.

Dying – © 1983

“You’re time will come”, the Doctor speaks,
“Could be a year, could be six weeks”
“The cards are on the table son,”
“This time it looks as if death’s won”

“He hasn’t won!”, My heart cries out
“He’s tipped his hand, He’s let it out!”
We all someday are going to die.
But now you know just when and why.

You still have time to live – to see
What joy just living life can be?
Take time to watch your children grow
And tell them that you love them so.

Forgive your wife for hurts unplanned
Stand by her side and take her hand
Work with her now and take it slow
The time will come she’ll have to know.

Love all your relatives to start,
And even forgive the cold cruel heart.
No time for jealousies and pride
Let understanding be your guide.

Make Life the twinkle in your eye
And make it touch all who pass by.
For when at last your time is through
Just those you’ve touched will think of you.

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