She relapsed hell bent, while dark overdrive
took her where she'd not gone for years, far side
of slick slope. She'd clung to recovery, night
meetings sparks of light to lead her way. But she lied
in secret ways or got left with sin's wage,
such fine lines woven between lost and saved,
or God turned his back on this great one, made
faulty wiring when precise was needed. Face
him now, demand redress for her, this nurse
who loved fierce, taught with passion, like a church
shelters those in need, the worst of the worse
loved wildly, counted in, coins in life's purse,
valued by those with hearts big enough. Back,
bring her back. Back. Gone too soon, just lke that.
My friend died of an overdose recently and broke the hearts of we who loved her. Her presence filled a room. She gave of herself to her patients, advocated tirelessly for them, taught them as if their lives depended on it because it did and laughed with them with her whole body at the foibles that unite us all. I wish she didn't have to go. Damn this disease of addiction and its sabotage of good people's brains.
Written for dVerse Poets Pub for Tony Maude's Bout Rimés. He gave us a list of words to rhyme. They are: drive, side, night, lied, wage, saved, made, face, nurse, church, worse, purse, back, that. They seemed to tell my friend's sad story.
