Slips, Trips, and Falls Prevention. Now what could go wrong here?????
I Could Die Here
1
Hans von Gersdorff. Der verwundete Mann. Feldtbůch der Wundartzney (Strasburg, 1528). ((Field book of surgery. The wounded man). http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/File:Gersdorff_p21v.jpg I Could Die Here My fingers unfeel Sucked dry by cold Perched on slanting rock Worn smooth by a thousand feet Marching skyward My flesh betrays me As I juggle with risk And urgency flies I look to my hands From my hands to my knees To my shaking legs To my numbing toes I could die here On a decaying coast I sat below the tide High-marked in green The only strand holding me to life Is a cable, fraying, unwinding Held taut to the horizon Gently humming threat Only sheep would find me The sun kicked through the clouds And stamped on me Nature looked at me And looked away I could die here Beneath a similar sky A canon of blows Came to remind me that You can take what I have With sticks or with stones And fingers that paint My eyes with blood In an ecstacy of hate And all I can do is plead “That’s enough!” I could die here! Tumbled on a stair Unfound by friends I have changed shape I dragged myself from dream And stumbled back to life Love did not find me Nor hate In a lonely place That has written on my skull Forever I could die here A cough And then another cough Then another And another And another In a loop of breath That has no breath in it I spoke to a friend without speaking She said “Don’t die” And so I didn’t But even so, I remember I could die here A dusk that does not fade A sun that does not rise A moon that does not shine If all of my remaining days Each one Are to be like this day Then I would not want them And this can be my last I could die here I laid on sun warmed rock Above the sea Below the sky Forgotten by a million years And no waking in this bed From a sleep unknown That even god would envy I could die here richardbolamat50.wordpress.com
-
Upload
richard-bolam -
Category
Documents
-
view
216 -
download
2
description
A poem about brushes with mortality.
Transcript of I Could Die Here
Hans von Gersdorff. Der verwundete Mann. Feldtbůch der Wundartzney (Strasburg, 1528). ((Field book of surgery. The wounded man).http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/File:Gersdorff_p21v.jpg
I Could Die Here My fingers unfeelSucked dry by coldPerched on slanting rockWorn smooth by a thousand feetMarching skywardMy flesh betrays meAs I juggle with riskAnd urgency flies I look to my handsFrom my hands to my kneesTo my shaking legsTo my numbing toes
I could die here
On a decaying coastI sat below the tideHigh-marked in greenThe only strand holding me to lifeIs a cable, fraying, unwindingHeld taut to the horizon Gently humming threatOnly sheep would find meThe sun kicked through the cloudsAnd stamped on meNature looked at meAnd looked away
I could die here
Beneath a similar skyA canon of blowsCame to remind me thatYou can take what I haveWith sticks or with stonesAnd fingers that paintMy eyes with bloodIn an ecstacy of hateAnd all I can do is plead“That’s enough!”
I could die here!
Tumbled on a stairUnfound by friendsI have changed shapeI dragged myself from dreamAnd stumbled back to lifeLove did not find meNor hateIn a lonely placeThat has written on my skullForever
I could die here
A coughAnd then another coughThen anotherAnd anotherAnd anotherIn a loop of breathThat has no breath in itI spoke to a friend without speakingShe said “Don’t die”And so I didn’tBut even so, I remember
I could die here
A dusk that does not fadeA sun that does not riseA moon that does not shineIf all of my remaining daysEach oneAre to be like this dayThen I would not want themAnd this can be my last
I could die here
I laid on sun warmed rockAbove the seaBelow the skyForgotten by a million yearsAnd no waking in this bedFrom a sleep unknownThat even god would envy
I could die here
richardbolamat50.wordpress.com
