The Carer’s Gift

Death is the broken shell of life,  
tomorrow will emerge the carer's soul  
from the covenant of compassion.  
 
   
 
 
Timeless bars of the carer’s recital  
melodic drips from finger tips  
with tender touch of keys.  
Action levers jack springs  
hammer shank, hammer felt,  
string struck chimes reverberates  
and resonates from morphine smiles  
weathered by the good fight.  
 
 
An air of elation  
adorns captive minds.  
Glass eyes entombed  
with knowledge of life  
crippled with senseless  
torture of a weary death.  
A legacy to whom survive,  
yet no one is spared.  
 
 
The musician plays the whaling song.  
Souls droning from collapsed lungs,  
bed sores soothed with hallelujah,  
cleansed soles dance with dignity  
purified with lavender rubbing oil.  
 
 
The angels melody raptures  
from mortal cacoons,  
orchestrated gift  
morphed into youth.  
Her carer’s hands  
unbound from duty,  
a son, bound by love  
willed into sacrifice.  
 
 
Staring into the depths of loss  
her man emerges from the well.  
 
 
From an old piano down the hall  
the musician plays like a machine  
that bleeds and breathes for life.  
She surrenders heavenly song of salvation  
dancing the flamenco melody march.  
Hearts flying home come to die in wards,  
where hope is tethered to fragile promises  
of staying lucid, long enough,  
to watch the sunrise from her bed.  
 
 
 
 
 
 
This poem was written for the "Intergalactic Nuclearball (Fusion rules)" comp in honour to my brother's charity and compassion.