There was a time when most people died at home, so the average person was well acquainted with this normal and expected, piece of living. Nowadays, the process of entering the world and leaving the world, usually happen in the hospital. Thus, very few people, and this includes doctors, are on speaking terms with death. This poem, takes a look at the situation through the eyes of a dying person.

Death Sits In The Corner

Just waiting and waiting
For my doctor to come,
The clock ticking quietly
Like a perpetual drum,
Louder and louder
It seems to me;
Death sits in the corner
Inconspicuously.

I just want acknowledgement
Though I know the replies,
There's no rhyme or reason
When somebody dies,
Yet, even the dying
Deserve some respect;
Death sits in the corner
He's here to collect.

Before my doctor arrived
To say good day,
Death stretched out his hand
And took me away:
I know why, my physician
Wouldn't come near;
Death sat in the corner
And challenged his fear.

Fibril_late; 10/93