MIME ENCORE Poetry By Ranjan Mathews

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                                      Garbed at last like Death’s last sentry

                                      Numbered arm bands preamble my puzzled entry

                                      Carted out by nurses in green,  staring grim

                                      Through passages quaint but clinically prim.

                                                     Fleeting glances of my tensioned up kin

                                                     Wave me down the Recycle Bin

                                                     Where Hi-Tech Surgeons ply their skills

                                                     Cheating Death daily gives them new thrills.

                                      Click, Open, Attach: Heart Files, Browse,

                                      Select, Copy, Paste Veins, Click-CABG, Close !

                                      New Life beats in my system’s by-passed mains

                                      History leases me some medical gains.

                                                       Having crossed the once unreachable bridge

                                                       I look beyond the next big ridge

                                                       Living Life on God’s loaned Time

                                                      There is reason for one more Mime !

                                      Incised sternum and ribs wired-up together

                                      With stitches of surgeries like bound-up leather

                                      Monitors and tubes add to my glory

                                      As medicines help me to rewrite this story.

                                                      Regaining strength under Nightingale Nurses’ care

                                                      Physiotherapists add to the new confidence rare

                                                      Taking each convalescing day at a time

                                                      There is some logic and magic if not rhyme.

                                      Out of the ICCU and into the General Ward

                                      Each recovering patient makes each other look hard

                                      Yes, there’s more to this Life, it isn’t The End

                                      Afterall what is a road, without a bend ?

                                                       Dreaming of Angels we still manage to sleep

                                                       As pain-killers heal the invasions deep

                                                       The mind is still burdened with “what hereafter?”

                                                       It isn’t all that clear, about the gained quarter.

                                     Wheeled out at last from the battle scene

                                     We thank our stars for what could have been

                                     It is high time we improved our Living Stance

                                     Since God gave us this One Last Chance!

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