AN IRONICAL LIFE

AN IRONICAL LIFE


What an irony is it!
I am more dead than alive.
Yet those who caused this to me,
Have now managed to connive

That they would not let me rest
Even on this my death bed.
They cause me constant torture.
Why not let me die, instead?

I have spent fourteen years,
Just as a vegetable,
On respirator, because,
To breathe, I am not able.

Let’s suppose some miracle
Does, somehow, me now revive.
Will it be my misfortune
Will it add joy to my life?

I would still be a cripple,
Mentally a kid of three.
To display my tantrums to
Those around, I shall be free!

Let me please now rest in peace.
Please end my predicaments.
Doctors, nurses, needles, tubes,
Law courts, appeals and judgments!



* I was inspired to write this in the wake of
Terri Shaivo's case, who fought first a medical battle, where doctors lost, then a legal battle, where her parents lost. All the while, she continues to be a comatose pawn! [She died a few days after this poem was written].


* Related poem: EUTHANASIA in "MY POETRY BOOK" 


M C Gupta
26 March 2005