Decisions

Decisions


‘It has to be your decision’
Scared by the young doctor’s white coat pocket
Scarred with a series of blue biro skids
‘He’s our only kid’
The life-support drip slips out of his life
Soon to cease being, soon to be deceased


‘It has to be your decision’
The pea-green strobe straight-lines
No more drips, no more blips on the monitor
Rising and falling like electronic hiccups
Then the tears and conversation about organ donation
Papers already signed, sealed and now to be delivered


‘It has to be your decision’
Our last goodbyes, last kissing closing eyes
His small dead body to be surgically dissected
Elected, by his mother to save the lives of others
His body washed, his blonde hair combed and parted
Departed, to the cold waiting kidney bowls




Harry Mills Boracay Philippines 12th August 2012