IN THE ABYSS, September 1998

What sorrow is this that fills my heart
Deep into the night and haunts my day?
It is no simple touch of grief for one
Much loved nor yet the wrenching,
Tearing feel of pain. It is the sorrow
For a world where life is measured now
By the value one is seen to have,
Whether in the womb or elderly and left
Wondering who cares for all the life
That one has lived, or that life
Yet unknown which moves and feels
And hurts when torn from out its
Warm, enclosing sea and has no
Chance, no hope for loving, caring parent.
The world discards us at our beginning
And our end, no longer valued for
Who we are or who we were or hope to be.
Case management they call it,
Quality of life, their choice of words,
Not mine. Only the fit shall live,
All others robbed of the very essence
Of the being that once one was or hoped
To be. New life, old life, each end
Valuable far beyond their sterile world.

JEB

For more information on these poems, contact edmund@balnaves.org