Painting the agony

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  • Angst

    Painting the agony

    The headline in today’s paper
    caught my attention, and with interest –
    I read through the article.

    The case of someone who’s ill
    with a dangerous form of tuberculosis
    a target of all media people
    with its overwhelming implication.

    As an international issue to deal with,
    a stark landscape of affliction;
    being blamed for possible contaminations,
    Mr Andrew Speaker, the scapegoat here.

    This reminded me of my own experience
    as a seminarian in my own land;
    I once fell very ill and needed –
    a space for complete isolation: a quarantine!
    It’s an unforgettable experience for me.

    life lived like in abandonment;
    its effect on me spilled out over history
    being vulnerable and reflective, an agony.

    I hate to recall that particular mem’ry
    were I felt driven away from my community;
    it swelled to two weeks as I was isolated,
    with a running sore of pain against them.

    But that’s part of what we ought to do
    with caution and concern to others who might be in danger;
    that sickness, the so-called ‘chicken pox’ knocked me down
    a lengthy episode marked with sadness, drenched in anger.

    Like profiling passengers in transportation system,
    for fear of terrorism who might cause explosion;
    it’s same thing when one carries a disease – contagious
    there’s a need for isolation or quarantine in procedure.

    With today’s world overdosed by all forms of ailments,
    there’s urgency or a wake-up call to everybody;
    precaution and prevention that give birth to fruition;
    a jarring departure for plagues of all seasons.

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    Poetry is either something that lives like fire inside you or else it is nothing, an empty formalized bore around which pedants can endlessly drone their notes and explanations.

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    mark25’s Poems (43)

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