Remembering the radiation burn
a worker suffered when his plant misfired,
and how it shocked my consciousness to learn
that doom can be as silent as it’s dire,
concealing symptoms while it works within,
and killing surely though it takes some time…
although we still have years, the origin
of doom is done. We can’t undo the crime.

It’s interesting to be alive this year
(but I’m a lucky one – still mostly blessed
with housing, health, and loving family),
for I can read the consequence. I fear
we’re in decline and doomed. I never guessed
the future’d make me like mortality.

This entry was posted in Aging, Civics, Coronaverse, Health, Poetry and tagged , , . Bookmark the permalink.

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