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Eighty - something
by
Rhona Aitken

When I die-
And I shall soon die-
I want to die as I am,
Grey haired and wrinkled ;
But in a neat piece.
Not attached to tubes
that feed me,
give me blood,
and ensure that I don't wet the bed.

When this old body
starts to tell me
it is worn out -
like a much-loved car
or a garden chair-
with no new engine or new legs can fix-
give me the grace
to close me eyes
on earthly pleasures
as I am.

There can be no pleasure
to me or those that love me
to witness a bruised,
bandaged - fruitlessly
tube-bound creature kept
for some strange medical satisfaction.
You cannot save me for long.
It is not When I die-but How.

At my age
I do not want to be 'saved'-
I want to slip away,
as is my right,
and my spirit - still quietly present
in the unfettered air
will thank you.
Yes- it will.

--Submitted by rhonasheridan on 2015-02-10.

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