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The spirity smell
of overworked nights
mingling with mankind
in all its afflictions
filters back to my mind

My formative years
fired with altruism
good things and Heaven
guided by late Basil
became jarred

Elias lay propped
straining and blue
heaving and foamy
perceptive, alive
well spoken and warm

An infinity of hours
each day he lay
wide - eyed,
swallowing
fish - like
the receding sunlight
in our ward -
until
one unkind day
showers of clots
dispersed and wedged -
intense pain
ripped open
that frail torso
we both knew.

The wide - eyed staring
that savoured all
became a slit - like grimace
challenging, futile

Through the haze
of pain
words became nods
as we tried and tried
until I called Basil
to sanction
what was asked

My hands
on glass
my needle - his vein
my pain - his life
his pain - my life
where was God
for us that day?

Slowly
through his eyes
relieved
he smiled at me
my tears
blurring his slide
into ultimate rest

Basil prayed
for his soul
and its future,
whereas I,
jarred to the bone
shook
with my hand
on the glass
and the steel
and his flesh
and trembled
for the step
I had taken.

To visit all of Everard S. Polakow's poems, click HERE

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