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Wonderful. Carole H. --- William Harshaw <[log in to unmask]> wrote: > Here's the poem.. Sorry for the goof! > > LAZARUS > > Mornings were a dull routine > Immobile > Many hors would pass until my brain's command > My anxious limbs its tortured message reached > And permitted steps, first halting > Like a child would take > Then runstumble > Strangers asked: > "What troubles him? > His legs like branches on a mishaped tree > Do move in deformed harmony." > > I > > The day began normally for me. > Up at five. Run. > At seven leave. > Drive there on the 401. > Arive shaking from the tension > Of driving. Or so I thought. > Until the doctor said: > "Parkinson's" Esther cried. > The doctor said: > "You will tie flies agan" > The fool had no sense of what's important. > > Nor had I. > I tried to hide the shaking hand > The dragging foot. > To no avail. One day I said: > "No, not hangover. Parkinson's > > No pain > No movement > No work > Pension at forty-five. > > A baker's dozen year now > I raged like Samson > I did not curse God > I tried to understand > Why me? > There is no reason > There never is > So, why not me? > > It is perverse > Some days I move at will > Others cannot despite my will > > It moves in leaps as if to curb > My pleasure. > I am trapped inside my body. > But not in prison. > For I have much to do before I go > I must complete the task, > Fulfil the vision. > > II > > There are otherswho do not know > Why they are different > Or what makes them so > They live in squalor and > Fear > Of what they do not know. > > Because we are indifferent > Because we care more for the far away > Than the near > Bosnia, not Regent's Park > New neighbourhoods to us > Xenophobia is powerful > We are afraid of what we do not know. > > The Good Samaratin shared not our fears > He helped without reward > We have neither > Soul nor imagination > We care what others think > Emotion does not show > It is unmanly > To stop before satiety > Or so we think. > > III > > He said: "The poor are always with us" > Do not make Him a liar > For He is perfect > And cannot lie. > > We are or brother's keeper > Providence keeps us. > We defy it hedonically > Always testing limits > We are the hollow men > And do not now it. > We whimper at affronts to comfort > And repeat old words > That cleanse guilt > Like silver polish > No effort. > > We go about from day to day > Seeing nothing but footsteps. > Smelling only the ordinary and execrable, > Feeling nothing but itchen textures and > Bedroom emotions. > > What closes or eyes to wonder? > Our touch to the exquisite? > Our minds to the unknown? > > Why are we afraid to explore the beyond? > Examine the rose without thought of time > Or consequence? > Shut off all around > Let concentration become meditation > Surrounded by what was always there > Now understood. > > Creation transforms us > If we let it, into > New people freed of the opaquing caul > That clouds the senses > Numbs the mind. > > IV > > We do not think > Of disability > When we are young > We will be forever young > Perfection > We look for and find not. > > Now half the time > I cannot walk > Cannot write > Speech is slurred > I can see and > Hear > And touch > > Pain is transient > It is easy to sit and > Not initiate ... anything. > People understand that it is hard. > The anguish of a song unsung, > A book unwritten is as impotence > To creation. We are free to choose. > > We become the passive people > Beneficiaries of goodwill expressed > Without asking us > What, when, where ... > We would like ... > No matter ... they know best > We only have PD > The object of their charity. > > I am Lazarus. > There are gradations of Hell. > I know them all. > I am not a survivor. > I am the strongest and best > I must be > To endure Hell. > I am Lazarus > I am not chosen > I have made the choice > To be free > > V > > Waiting, Endlessly ... > Preparation, three days of tests > Word games, memory, spatial, > Meds on ... meds off ... performance > Videotaping me waling, moving and immobile. > > The Social Contract, so-called ... > Richard Hooker looks down in horror > The perverted se of noble thought > Destroys the polity. > Hence the waiting > For an O.R. > False alarms ... then > Go back home. > > VI > > Skull bolted to the table > Immobilized > For the duration. > Wide awake. No sedation. > === message truncated === _____________________________________________________________ Do You Yahoo!? Free instant messaging and more at http://messenger.yahoo.com