KoDo II
How many slip quietly away?
Under a tree or bush,
A bed gone cold
In the dark of night,
Or on a cold steel table
Under a harsh white light.
The lost, the forgotten, the aged.
Thousands and thousands,
Perhaps many more.
Most without a name,
Or one that has been forgotten.
How strange we amass around one,
While all these tiny, nameless hearts stop beating,
And we do nothing.
Safety in numbers you say,
Not at all.
[Posted in FML issue 1970]