WAITING FOR A FLU INJECTION

.
The line of bodies
Shuffles forwards in the queue;
Some too thick, some too thin,
Some lean on sticks or on another's arm,
Just able to stand,
Their thoughts and movements slow;

Some in a wilderness of despair and confusion
Do not quite know
Where or even who they are;
Others can scarcely see,
Recognising no-one;

All are caricatures
Of what they used to be,
Clinging to their lives
With pills, injections and operations;
All have come hoping
To avoid the flu.

Was this once a lively dad,
Playing with his children?
Was this a merry little girl,
Skipping across the meadows,
As pretty as the flowers
Through which she ran?

Now gaunt and bent and staggering,
Their grey hairs thin, their energy gone,
Their bleak faces sagging:
Spiteful time has savaged their bodies,
Plundered their beauty
And destroyed their strength;

They look so frail:
Yet deep within each one,
No matter how great the damage,
Still shines the radiance of the sun;

For they are not their bodies,
But have merely used them for a while
As temporary lodging,
And soon will move on
To other worlds.

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