it's not the death that scares me
but the dying
the slow dragging
careful stomping one foot
in front of the other
stiff body refusing to follow the mind
tired mind hopeful to be free
any time now
any time soon

degrading inabilities
to undress to wash and dress
my floor swept by the other
silently when I don't see
let's both pretend it was clean

degrading inabilities
to cook to eat and wash up
the one who constructed a dishwasher
is a hero of my stiff neck
my sore arms my shaking hands

it's the dying that hurts me
not my friend the death

copyrights Nikki Darman, 23.10.2012

Was talking to a friend of mine recently - a somewhat younger girl.  And then it struck me: I started singing a song from the time I was young, one of the early lyric-rock songs, and she looked at me amazed - not with my voice (which is most definitely not what it used to be!), but with the fact that I could 'still remember' the lyrics...  I felt sooooooo much older in this one instant split of a second...

But somewhat proud of myself, that I can still sing without terrifying the living ... [bananas] ... out of everybody!